Moonless Skies
by magakee
Summary: One meaningless actions, one meaningless night manages to bring two very different people together - until something goes wrong...
1. Memory

**A/N:** _I know I've been writing Rouge et Noir, another E/E fanfic, but I've gotten mad writer's block and - another plot bunny...! I'll try to balance the two out but I definately like this story more. I literally cannot stop writing! As always, I hope you all like it too and thanks again for all the support.  
_

** Memory  
**

Éponine Thénardier gripped the faded crimson envelope in her trembling hands dismally.

It smelled of the _eau de toilette _only some _bourgeois_ could afford to wear. It wasn't surprising to her, considering how deeply Marius wanted to impress that _bourgeois_ of his - but none the less, a bit over the top.

She turned onto the next set of cobblestone streets, _Rue Plumet_, turning her nose up proudly and blinking away a few bitter tears.

The dewy pavements shined like silver in the beaming moonlight, casting ominous shadows around the buildings that sandwiched each _rue_. She walked in the streets at night often, hoping to escape from her heartbreaking reality as often as she could – but this night differed quite greatly from the others.

Éponine held a sense of anguish and heartache that seemed indescribable. Her stomach fluttered uncontrollably and a shudder would run up her spine every so often, especially when she remembered the gaze she had locked with him early that morning.

His hard, determined eyes.

Although her attempts at forgetting his actions the previous evening proved effective throughout the day, she found the afflictive memories flooding back to her as she was left alone with her thoughts.

She recalled his helpless cries being heard in the darkness, just as she had set out from the _Corinth_ wine shop, shaking thoughts of Marius' lover and Gavroche's near drinking incident loose.

Anxiously pondering why a man as aggressive as Enjolras would be screaming dejectedly in the dead of night, she ran to him, not thinking that he may lash out at her sudden presence.

It was the night before the barricades arose, the day preceding Lamarque's funeral. It was the young revolutionary's most significant day, that being said only if his months of hard work and dedication went according to plan.

She had wondered why he was acting so rash...

...

_"Monsieur," she called under her quivering breath._

_He seemed caught off guard as her face appeared from the shadows, as if he was biting his tongue to prevent an outburst._

_"Mademoiselle," his eyes were full of angry tears, likely an act nobody had ever witnessed from such a man, "please –" but he stopped himself upon viewing Éponine's visage as well. Her eyes were masked with tears and anguish._

_She moved towards him blindly, hoping for him to recognize the sorrow they shared._

_Enjolras had never held himself in such a state; it weakened him and his image to the public._

_He looked up at Éponine, his frustration pouring out in more tears as Éponine stifled hers crossly._

_The weight of months of preparation had fallen mercilessly on his overburdened shoulders, breaking his focus - and his heart. How could he manage to save all of France in a few months? How could he gather the strength to do it? He was an intelligent man of status, he couldn't let the people he was representing fall deeper into poverty. He wouldn't. But he had to let out his grievance somehow – so did the Thénardier girl._

_And so they did._

_Tempestuously pressing his lips upon hers, Enjolras heatedly moved Éponine against the tilted walls of Corinth, feeling her arms entwine with his._

...

Éponine felt the heat of the moment on her shivering arms once more, wrapping them around one another absent mindedly.

The act was so out of character, so rash – that it could and would never, _ever_ be repeated.

He had acted unintelligibly on the spur of the moment, and Éponine had let him. She had thought of Marius throughout the experience, wishing he had acted in such a way in the heat of things instead of the society's leader.

She shut her eyes once more, remembering the morning in _Corinth_ after their ambiguous affair.

...

_Enjolras' golden tufts of hair fell on her arm gracefully, his marble flesh seeming to radiate in the morning light. He was angelically handsome, something Éponine had never noticed before, but yet, wished she hadn't._

_They could never have a future together, she knew that so well that it seemed to make her heart ache feverishly._

_Before he could wake, she had slipped her dress on and ran her fingers through her matted hair, then, watched as he stirred slightly, opening his tired eyes._

_"Mademoiselle," he sighed, covering his bare chest with the pastel sheets in his reach, "I-"_

_"I'm so sorry." She answered, bowing her head, defeated._

_"No," he stopped, yawning and stretching his arms out tiredly, then focusing his gaze, "we must never speak of this again. Do you understand?" A look of shame fell over his face._

_Éponine nodded quickly, and without another word or gesture, left his home._

...

Had he wondered where she had gone?

Had he cared?

Éponine shook her head and let out a snort of derision.

He would never mention the night again, and quite frankly, Éponine didn't desire anything more from him.

She loved Marius, and although he was too clueless to reciprocate, she would wait for him however long it took.

Tightening her grip on the letter, Éponine tightened her oversized cap and coat and made her way out through the darkening night sky, dancing hopelessly underneath the gleaming starlight.


	2. The First To Fall

**The First To Fall  
**

Frantically running across the mobbed barricade, Gavroche tripped clumsily on a rogue chair leg and fell on the disarrayed pavement, cutting his trembling chin and marvelling at the blood that suddenly stained his fluttering hands.

"Watch where you're going Gavroche! You'll get hurt!" Joly warned, shaking his mess of red hair and stifling a laugh, "Oh god, you _are_ hurt!" Joly lifted the boy concernedly and placed him gingerly on a table inside Corinth, "Stay here, I'll be back."

"I know what I'm doing!" He snapped back, dismounting himself off the wooden table briskly, looking around for any sign of Éponine.

Where _was_ she?

"Marius!" He called out anxiously.

No response.

Suddenly, he heard a scoff sound behind him, whipping his head back he found Enjolras standing protectively over his shoulder.

"Gavroche, stop causing a commotion."

"I can't help it!" He gushed, turning slightly red in the begrimed cheeks, "Have you seen her?"

"Who?"

"Éponine." His eyes fell a little, scanning the floor, "She was here a lil' while ago."

"Well she shouldn't have been here at all." A glimmer of sadness shone in his determined eyes, and then it fell, "Neither should you." Enjolras walked away assuredly, asserting his focus to the preparation of ammunition in the back of the vacant wine shop.

Gavroche mocked him and shook his head, wiping the last of the blood that formed on his cut absent mindedly.

Marius walked by him frenziedly, priming the gun in his hands.

"Marius!" He called out, jumping readily to grab his attention.

"Gavroche?"

"Where's 'Ponine?"

Hesitating, he spoke in soft tones, "I sent her off, it's not safe here."

"Oh," Gavroche drew his little golden eyebrows together, frustrated, "never mind then."

Before leaving, Marius bent down to look him in the eye, "You're bleeding, by the way. I would go see Joly." Grinning, still slightly oblivious, he walked past him.

...

Realizing Marius was approaching, Enjolras grimaced at his comrade, trying to make use of his presence somehow before he got too dismally distracted by thoughts of his 'pen pal'.

"Did Gavroche ask you too?" He asked, biting his tongue in frustration.

Why was Marius' shadow flickering across his encumbered mind so persistently?

"About 'Ponine?" Marius shrugged, "I sent her off."

"Oh." Enjolras racked his brain and riveted his attention elsewhere, stopping only once to say, "I would go see to it that she returns in one piece." Then he vanished over another set of broken furniture.

...

Éponine seemed dazed at how the streets reflected the light of the moon as the skies above her darkened.

She propelled herself along each _rue_, moving closer and closer to the intersection which led either home, or to the formidable barricades.

She had forced herself, only as a result of her unyielding love for Marius, to obey his orders and go home.

But home held more remorse and aversion than the imminent battlefield.

Surely he would die, never knowing of the deep affection she felt for him, never knowing how incredibly she loved him.

Then again, if she were to return, she could never face Enjolras again in his final moments alongside Marius.

How could he ever forgive her regrettable actions with the society's leader?

She shuddered at the thought and fell to her knees desolately; looking up at the same vibrant stars above she had danced so hopefully under moments ago.

...

The dead air was interrupted by the sound of fierce footsteps approaching her location.

Éponine scrambled to her feet and darted to a nearby alleyway, pressing herself against a wall deliberately.

The national guardsmen continued down their path determinedly – the path headed for Enjolras' barricade.

Éponine stifled a scream and shot out from her hiding place behind the mass of men.

The thirty _boys_ waiting anxiously at the barricades surely wouldn't stand a chance against the three hundred men that advanced closer to them with each passing second. The scene would undoubtedly turn into a massacre.

Turning frantically onto _Rue de la Chanvrerie, _Éponine stripped off her cap and coat as she ran swiftly in the darkness, leaving them in the street as what little rain left suddenly ceased.

Her throat began to burn with each struggling gulp of air.

Slowing her pace in an effort to regain her breath, she began to make out the soldiers' pool of red coats standing before the barricades, fixing their bayonets urgently.

Completely aghast, she scanned the distressed sight and realized she'd have to scale the barricade immediately, or risk being noticed by the guardsmen.

Hitching her bare feet onto the splintering furniture, Éponine carried herself over each level of the towering barricade.

Her vision became impaired when a flash of blinding light lit up the skies.

Shielding hers, she made out Marius' startled face as he levered himself over the top, the reflection of the flames of his torch dancing in his dead eyes.

"Marius!" Combeferre cried, "Pontmercy, get down from there!"

"Marius," Éponine choked, struggling in front of him as the gunman reloaded his gun.

The gun sounded horrendously, acrid smoke filling the air and causing Marius to fall back, choking on what little breath he had left.

The rest of the moments sped by Éponine like a clouded dream. She had noticed Combeferre crawling into his niche and sticking his gun into a small opening in the barricade, then Enjolras and Courfeyrac.

"TAKE COVER!" He shouted as the boys clamped their hands over their ears and curled up.

A loud clap of what sounded like thunder followed, shaking Éponine's world as she covered her ears and coiled herself up as well.

She heard her beloved's voice boom from above her suddenly, after a few minutes of pondering what damage the explosion could have done.

"…And myself with it," he assured to a previous argument Éponine had missed.

Combeferre's cries could be heard from afar as the commotion died down and the wails of the injured could be heard.

It wasn't until she felt Marius' quivering arms around her waist, giving her much the needed warmth she yearned for, that Éponine came back to Earth.

...

Had the gun missed? Were they bombed?

"_Monsieur Marius_…" She moaned, grasping his fingers anxiously. He was alive, that was all that mattered…

"Ep-" Marius let out a sharp gasp and gaped at the blood covering his hands, "You're hurt."

Was she? All she could sense was the cool touch of Marius' fingers in her hands.

Éponine sucked in some cold air and held it in her mouth, feeling a spasm of pain in her body and tasting the pungent taste of her own blood.

Looking down urgently, she recognized a pool of red covering her rags, staining every inch of her shaking body.

"Joly!" Marius cried out, catching both his, and Enjolras' attention.

The leader's eyes widened in fear as he felt a sudden twinge of guilt for not helping the poor waif.

_How simple could she be for trying to save Marius' life?_

"Does it hurt?" Marius managed to cough, still petrified with fright.

"I," Éponine bit her tongue, gritting her teeth, "I can feel no pain."

Enjolras shook his head dismally at her ability to lie even on her death bed.

_Foolish girl_, he thought, moving aside, checking the damage done to the barricade after the near bombing.

"Oh," Marius replied, feeling her breath rise and fall quickly, "Joly, hurry!"

Joly poked his head out from Corinth, after setting up his makeshift hospital, smiling sadly at Marius, seemingly unaware of the situation.

After viewing the horror on his friends' faces, he ran to the scene and stumbled back at the sight of Éponine's mangled body.

"Yes. Yes." Joly stuttered randomly, running back to the wine shop hurriedly.

"I'll go help him!" Marius urged, stopping as he felt Éponine's grip on his shirtsleeves tighten desperately.

"_Please stay,_" she tried to sit up but managed to let out a small scream instead.

How shameful it was to die this way, looking like an idiot in the bitter rain that soon began to fall upon Marius and her.

He averted his attention slightly to Corinth, ready to call for Joly once more.

Enjolras moved closer to the two, loath to disrupt what moments they may have left with one another.

"Marius, when I die –" Éponine began, hoping to be rid of her pain and abhorrent life sooner or later.

"No, Éponine… you won't die! You will … live! You will go on!" He reassured, seeming as though he did not know what to do with himself.

Éponine snickered bitterly and sighed, letting her head fall back a little.

Marius stiffened his position underneath her body and looked her in the now cold eyes, "No, Éponine, please don't…"

"Don't fret, _Monsieur_ Marius." She reassured, letting herself cherish his visage once more, thankful that her last moments were in his arms, "when I die, promise me that you'll kiss my forehead."

"But-" His cheeks turned a sickly scarlet colour and he nodded, looking down to mask his tears.

"You know, _Monsieur_, I think I may have been a little in love with you."

And with those solemn words, Éponine took a straining breath and fell limp.

Marius let out a pant and stared, aghast, at the body he held in his arms – the body that had once so clumsily followed him like a shadow and tried so hard to please him.

Why hadn't he noticed that?

Now she was gone...

Enjolras ran to the waif's cradled body, pressing his hand upon Marius' shoulder supportively.

Marius bent down dizzily and pressed his lips to her cold, blood stained forehead, allowing himself to linger for only a moment before facing Enjolras.

"She is the first to fall," Enjolras declared, sadness glistening in his tired eyes.


	3. Les Enfants de la Barricade

**A/N:** _I've been writing soo much during the March break, it gives me lots of time to brainstorm ideas!  
_

**Les Enfants de la Barricade  
**

Beneath the pall of caustic smoke spilling into every nook and cranny, Éponine made out the sight of dark blood pouring out onto the cobblestone streets and into Corinth like a sea.

A blur of haziness surrounded her muted vision, providing a dream like quality for her surroundings. How long had she been asleep? How long had she been _bleeding_? It was a wonder she hadn't passed yet…

The broad daylight shone into the broken windows in glorious streaks, silver bullets winking at her as she caught sight of them lying in the mutilated wine shop.

Holding each struggling breath in her mouth, hoping to stay alive as long as she possibly could, Éponine rolled onto her back and met the eyes of Joly, who was gripping his bleeding arm and lying motionless on the hard wooden floors.

His blood was smeared across his forehead gruesomely, matting in his curly hair. His eyebrows were drawn together in anxiety and fear as he trembled viciously.

"Joly-" she began, wondering how he had managed to stay alive.

Then again, how did she manage to stay alive? Were the guardsmen still in Corinth? Had they not seen her breathing?

"Éponine?" He wheezed faintly, "But you –"

The sudden sound of footsteps caught his attention, petrifying him immediately.

"Be quiet." She snapped, feeling a salient pain in her shoulder, stifling tears.

She was certain it was a guard, sent to make sure they had destroyed any living thing that remained. If they made any more noise, they would know they weren't dead. They would kill the two as ruthlessly as they had killed the others.

Joly caught on quickly and wondered who else had died in the agonizing silence.

Had Lesgles?

Had Marius?

Had Enjolras?

He began to pant feverishly, feeling more lightheaded as the anxiety filled moments passed.  
"Shut up…" Éponine begged, trembling as the angry footsteps neared their location, "L-Look dead." She stuttered, feeling the pain beginning to radiate all over her body.

She shook as Joly watched in awe for any sight of a threat.

...

The moments sped on quickly, the adrenaline and fear making each passing hour seem as though they were seconds. Soon, they were surrounded with nothing but the blood of angry men and a thick smoke that was beginning to lift from the tainted floors.

Joly's bleeding had stopped, forming a loose scab on his fluttering arm – but Éponine lay unconscious.

"Wake up!" Joly begged, kicking her with his dirt stained shoes, "Wake up girl!"

No response. Had she died from all the bleeding?

Joly stood to his feet swiftly, finding his balance, and then running out of the Corinth. Still paralyzed with the uneasy fear building in his churning stomach, he began his search for bodies.

There were no words to describe the horrors a fresh battlefield held, simply put, death would have been more desirable than walking through the gore that soiled every ounce of land in view.

Other than a couple of the rogue village members he caught sight of a few of his comrades, rotting in their own blood. Tears welled up in his eyes as he sank to his knees desolately, his body racked with tears. One by one he made out familiar faces.

Lesgles.

Combeferre.

Jehan.

Feuilly.

Moving past the last face frantically, Joly entered the top level of Corinth. The wine bottles were broken, their sweet liquid forming small puddles on the dirt covered, gore stained floors.

"Hello?" He called out desperately, "HELLO!"

"J-" but the voice was cut off after being distressed with terrible sobs.

"Who was that? Are you alright!?" Joly began to feel a glimpse of hopefulness in his sorrowful mind, especially after realizing the voice came from the drunkard, caught between the bar and a few shards of glass.

"Oh God Grantaire, get up!" Joly begged, running to the bar to meet the face of his friend.

Slivers of glass were wedged in his swollen cheeks and his shuddering hands covered his bruised face.

"Am I dead?" He spit cynically, letting out a muted gasp.

"No," but Joly stopped himself, unable to say anything after what he had seen.

Why were _they_ alive? Why had everybody died so brutally when they still had the right to live?

"Where is everybody?" Grantaire muttered, still shaking veraciously.

"I, um –" Joly shook his head and practically melted beside the injured boy.

"HELLO!?" Another voice frantically called out, desperation clinging to his words.

"Courfeyrac!" Joly called out, nearly throwing himself at the rattled boy.

"I can't walk," Courfeyrac admitted, buckling his knees and sinking to the floor. A simple flight of stairs had disabled the poor lad.

"I know," Joly muttered angrily, shoving his face in his hands.

What a life the barricades had left for them…

...

Éponine moved in her sleep, moving in and out of consciousness feverishly. Why hadn't she died yet? How much pain would she have to endure?

Suddenly rattled by the sound of something hitting the ground outside, Éponine shot up, putting up with the pain in her body to go see what horrors awaited just outside.

To her shock, she found who she least expected, lying half alive and quivering on the cobblestones. His blonde locks were smeared with his own blood, eight bullets holes penetrated his bright red jacket, and a flag lay loosely in his fingers.

"Joly," Éponine exclaimed, "JOLY! HELP!"


	4. A Doctor

_**A/N:** I love writing about Joly! He's a character with so much potential and he's just so awesome... I've got the next four chapters written and I hope you all like it! Thank you to all the new readers! The new reviews, follows, and favourites - however many- really brighten my day :)  
_

**A Doctor**

_Joly is smart, Joly is alive, _Éponine repeated pathetically to herself as she floated transiently in and out of consciousness. Surely he would help them? Would he not?

Enjolras was on the brink of death and so was she.

"Help me lift him!" Joly screamed as she opened her eyes feverishly, taking in her surroundings.

She had passed out next to the young revolutionary, finally losing all the feeling in her blood soaked arm.

"HELP ME!"

"I…can't…move…" she croaked, rolling onto her side, swallowing back her screams.

After he let an eerie silence ring the air for several minutes, Éponine figured he had either died of worry or given up.

"Cab, I'll…I'll call a cab!" He suddenly cried, watching as a crippled Éponine moaned and shifted next to Enjolras, whose frenzied breaths gave off the impression of a dying man. Shuddering briefly, Éponine shut her eyes and faded out once more.

...

The room began to move together like a puzzle, mending itself at the tattered seams, as Éponine opened her heavy eyelids.

The slanted brick walls supporting each unmade bed bitterly reminded her of Musain, but the acerbic smell of alcohol threw her off.

Was this a hospital? But then again, no, it couldn't be. It didn't _look _like a hospital.

She looked down to her feet, wiggling her toes and feeling the blood began to pump willingly throughout her body, warmth filling her up with much needed joy.  
_  
She was alive_.

By some godly miracle, she had managed to survive the permanent horrors of the barricade – but at what cost?

Marius had thought her to be dead. Had he kept his promise? Did he _care_ for her?

Éponine could feel the warmth she had previously been graced with radiating out of her body.

"She's awake," a muffled voice whispered from afar, bringing Éponine back to Earth.

Joly glided into the room, stopping briefly by the door to meet her fearful eyes.

A women with an incredible amount of bright red, curly hair leaned against the wall next to him, clutching a notebook to her heart.

"Are you feeling alright, _Mademoiselle_?"

"Just fine, _Monsieur_." She whispered, realizing his arm was wrapped in a sling – so was hers, "What happened to me?"

Joly pondered the question for a moment, feeling a lump form in his throat, "You were shot."

"I know," she admit quickly, memories of Marius' attack flooding her tired mind. Suddenly, she could feel salty tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I took the bullet from your shoulder, and – you were asleep for _days…_" His voice carried on but Éponine had lost her patience.

"Where's Marius?" She demanded, forcing herself to a sitting position.

"_Mademoiselle_," he cautioned, slowly moving towards her bed.

"He- he didn't… did he?" She stuttered, feeling her body begin to shake.

Joly shook his head but halted, sucking in some cold air and letting it out sharply, "His body was never recovered."

Éponine opened her mouth to protest but shut it with a brisk _clack_. _Marius could be alive_.

"We must find him then." She declared blindly.

"_Mademoiselle,_ that is not in our jurisdiction!" Joly gasped, furrowing his eyebrows, "We've lost so many of the others! I'd advise that you realize how lucky _you_ are to be alive."

Éponine clicked her tongue and stared into Joly's eyes miserably; _so many of the others had died...? _

"I-I," She gripped his shirts collar with her good hand and buried her head in his chest grievously.

Caught off guard by her sudden meltdown, Joly froze, slowly patting her back as her sobs worsened.

"_Mademoiselle_, please," he could feel tears beginning to form in the corners of his own eyes.

Reluctant to approach the grieving doctor and his patient, the redheaded woman slowly advanced towards Éponine's bed.

"_Monsieur_ Joly," she insinuated softly, "_Monsieur_ Enjolras has a terrible fever."

Taken away from the situation with Éponine, Joly turned his head to face the nurse and blinked away a few misplaced tears, "You're sure of it?"

"Positive." She confirmed, "He'll burst into flames if we don't tend to it soon. I've given him a wet towel, but-"

"I'll see to it." Joly reassured, moving away from Éponine as she averted her gaze.

Enjolras had survived – perhaps he would know about Marius!

"I'll come with you!" Éponine cried rashly, swinging her legs over the side of her bed then feeling her knees buckle.

Joly darted towards her, helping her find balance gingerly with his good hand.

"Please." Éponine begged, her body quivering from sheer desperation alone.

Joly took a deep, calming breath, and brought himself to meet the eyes of this poor waif.

She was _so _frightened – probably more so than him. He had been given days to mourn over the loss of his friends at the barricades whereas she had just come to terms with the aftermath of the battle…

"Seeing as you'll go mad without me," Joly said good naturedly, "follow along."


	5. L'épave et l'ivrogne

**A/N: **_I referance the brick quite often in this chapter, so disclaimer! Oh, and my new icon for the story is of Enjolras from tumblr user suchbluesky! Isn't it purty?  
_

**L'épave et l'ivrogne  
** **(The Wreck and the Drunkard)  
**

A week had passed since Éponine had awakened; nothing but a few medical scares happening in Joly's bustling home every so often.

She had come to learn that Joly had opened up a practice in his own home, hiring his sister's friend as a nurse and borrowing money from his grandfather in Sweden to pay for all the expensive medical equipment. Outside herself, Grantaire, Courfeyrac and Enjolras were the only patients he had ever really tended too, and although it frightened him, the days that passed were some of the best he'd ever spent.

But no matter how many days passed, Enjolras would not wake.

His fever had returned only once, on a dismal Wednesday in which Courfeyrac had taken his first steps and Grantaire had spoken his first words since the battle, but other than that – he was in the deepest state of unconsciousness Joly had ever seen. So strange, that Joly began to fear he might not _ever _wake.

Éponine followed him around like a lost puppy often, but never on his visits to town. She shared a room with Grantaire and Courfeyrac, refusing to speak to either of them as they did not speak to her.

The light in Grantaire's eyes had faded and become bitter and dark, and Courfeyrac's warm hearted remarks were no longer uttered in the darkest of moments. A truly terrible fate was cast for the four, but, remembering their comrades, they counted their blessings.

...

Éponine lay in her bed, listening carefully to the rain that poured heavily outside the stained glass windows.

She had kept her mind busy by reading a medical book Joly kept in his office that she had taken from him without permission. How he read such things baffled her. It was hard enough to understand the words on the page, but it also made one fear for their life! No wonder the poor boy was always caught staring at his tongue in the mirror…

Courfeyrac lay asleep now, probably as a result of the soothing rain, but Grantaire was lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling eerily.

"You know," he began, sitting up in his bed, "_Café Lemblin_ had the best coffee. Did you know that?"

Slightly disgruntled, Éponine shook her head and shut the book with a _thud_.

She hesitated to speak him; after all, he had been ignoring her for days on end. But then again, his company was better than no company at all…

"I would go in the morning, before visiting Musain. Before listening to _his_ lectures and plans…" Grantaire smirked with disgust and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, "Best cup of coffee any man could brew…"

"I've never drunk good coffee, just wine and beer my father kept around in his inn…" Éponine smiled sadly to herself and shrugged.

"Wine's rotten." Grantaire muttered, scrunching his noise and sticking out his tongue.

Éponine's eyes widened – did the _drunk_ dismiss the topic of _wine_? What had the barricade done to him?

"But, but – you?"

"I know!" Grantaire snapped, breaking the silence between the two, "I know…"

"I'm so sorry." Éponine sighed, shaking her head and opening the book again, bringing it so close to her face that her nose was practically stuck in it.

"_Numbs the feelings_." Grantaire carried on, ignoring Éponine's shame.

"What?"

"You can't _feel_ anything when you drink. It hurts doesn't it?"

_The poor man still talks as though he were drunk even when sober_, Éponine thought, shaking her head grimly, "What does?"

"_Feeling_." He responded swiftly, "It hurts so much."

Choking back tears, Grantaire laid his head back on his pillow and looked up at the roof dismally.

"Grantaire-" but Éponine bit back her tongue, taking calming breaths.

She sat in misery and awe, watching the man's chest rise and fall slowly, racked ever so slightly with sobs.

What had _happened _to him? She had to help…

"Have you ever been to _Ermitage_?" She asked, catching his attention.

His eyes lit up suddenly, "On the _Boulevard du Maine_?"

Éponine nodded, smiling, "I've never been there, but the cakes look quite magnificent – don't they?"

"They _taste_ magnificent."

Éponine laughed gleefully and met his dismal blue eyes, "You should go there soon. _Monsieur_ Joly would let you."

Taken off guard by her comment, he hesitated, and then nodded, "You should come with me. Joly would certainly let you." The tears that had been nestled in the corners of his eyes slid down the sides of his nose and off his chin, splattering on the bed spread.

Éponine felt her lip quiver, but the moment was interrupted briskly when _Madame_ Julie walked into the room, a tray full of food in hand.

"_Mademoiselle_ and_ Monsieur_," she began, "I've brought you both some food. Do you have an appetite?"

"Very much, yes!" Éponine exclaimed, dismounting herself off the bed and taking the tray from her. A poached egg and some asparagus lay on both silver plates, Éponine taking her share and handing Grantaire's plate to him.

"I can't," he sighed, turning his head away.

"How will you ever be ready for _Ermitage_ if you cannot eat _this_ food?"

He opened his mouth but breathed out feverishly instead, "If you insist then." He grabbed the silver plate and, with his bare hands, ate the meal.

Éponine took a fork from Madame Julie and began to eat the egg, cutting it to pieces before feeling the warm yolk pop inside her mouth. How long had it been since she had eaten _real, wholesome_, food, and enjoyed it? Savouring each bite, she continued her meal.

"_Mademoiselle_," the nurse began before leaving, pushing her red curls behind her ears, "_Monsieur Joly_ would like to examine you're wound tonight."

"I'll make note of that," Éponine said through chews – but her stomach churned viciously in the process.

"Very well." Julie said, turning on her heel to walk away.

Éponine dropped her fork and covered her mouth urgently.

"Oh!" Éponine gasped, turning to Grantaire for help but vomiting in his direction instead.

"Ah!" Grantaire gagged, moving swiftly out of his bed and in the opposite direction, "_Madame Julie_! Help!"


	6. Weeks

**Weeks **

Joly had been educating himself in the treatment of infected wounds since the sun peaked out from the horizon, casting glorious shadows around the vacant streets of Paris.

The _bourgeois_ social class that hung around so early in the cafés beneath his building were beginning to anger him as he sank deeper into poverty. He did not bother to call his grandfather to borrow any money to pay for his never ending need for medical equipment. He would have to get a job soon, or face the devastating effects of poverty later.

Madame Julie had brought news of Joly's sister from Sweden at noon, stating that she, too, had found a job and was beginning to make a reasonable amount of income for herself. Perhaps, if his state did not remedy itself, he would have to travel to Jeanette to borrow some money from her.

At noon, Grantaire had abashed Joly something awful with how quickly he proceeded into his office after days of silence, his brow dewy with sweat. From what he had taken out of Grantaire's quick speech about how Éponine spewed all she had consumed near his bed, he understood how imperative taking care of a girl as fragile as she was.

_Madame_ Julie leaned against the wooden door posts, still clutching her leather bound notebook to her chest, scanning Grantaire with her bright blue eyes and pondering what had gotten him so riled up.

"A girl of Éponine's state and stature is already in critical health," Joly muttered under his breath, "if she vomits one more time, she will be well on her way to malnutrition!" He exclaimed, enlightening the nurse, "I'll have to put off caring for Enjolras today; _Mademoiselle_ Éponine needs my care now."

Julie nodded, "I'll go see to it that _Monsieur_ Enjolras is feeling alright."

Joly approved contently, and then moved towards Éponine's chambers. She was still hunched over, making sickening noises. Grantaire turned away and shook his head, "That's disgusting."

"Grantaire, she's sick! She had no control over her actions…" Joly muttered, dismissing the fact that he was mortified of the new germs entering his practice.

...

Éponine had taken a spoonful or two of crushed ginger with honey, but managed to disagree with that as well. After several hours of waiting, Éponine had finally managed to settle down, but she had lost all the colour in her cheeks. Joly moved on to the physical examinations.

_Madame_ Julie would walk by _Monsieur_ Enjolras' chambers every so often, making sure he was still breathing. He looked as innocent as a small child sleeping in his bed, the bed sheets covering his bare chest as it rose and fell feverishly.

...

The next morning, Enjolras had awakened. _Madame_ Julie had diagnosed him with delirium, considering how he rambled in his sleep often and could not tell up from down when he would wake. Joly had previously fished eight bullets from his now almost mutilated body, and the pain had only just hit him – causing him to pass in and out of consciousness, just as Éponine had during her first few days of remission.

Éponine, on the other hand, was in a state of irrevocable confusion and worry, still in the dark about what her sudden sickness had been due to. Joly was to tell her of her diagnosis in the morning, but Éponine refused to know, mortified at the endless array of possible results.

A gentle but insistent knock sounded at her door, but before she summoned Grantaire to open it, Joly walked in, Enjolras lying limply in his arms.

"What on Earth are you doing?" Grantaire questioned, raising his eyebrow suspiciously.

"He woke today, so, he's in good enough shape to stay in this room."

"What?" Courfeyrac asked, shifting slightly to sit up.

"I won't repeat myself," Joly warned, averting his attention to Éponine, "you're results are in by the way, _Mademoiselle_."

"I told you I did not want to know!" She snapped, gritting her teeth together and moving a piece of her tangled hair behind her ears.

"I really think its best you heard from me first-"

"Who else would want to tell me?"

"_Mademoiselle_, please. You don't seem to understand how imperative it is for me to tell you-"

"Then you can tell me in front of everybody else."

"Are you positive?" Julie interrupted, grimacing slightly and eyeing Éponine.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Éponine retorted, jumping purposefully to her feet and placing a hand on her hip angrily.

"Éponine –"

"JOLY! No, I don't want to hear it," Éponine stuttered, beginning to fear her results further, "Just leave."

Her arrogance began to fluster Joly, his cheeks began to turn a sickening scarlet colour, "Éponine, keep it down. Enjolras _just woke up. _You'll frighten him into another coma!"

"Don't tell me–"

"You're pregnant!" He spat, kneeling down to Éponine as she fell to her knees, "You've been _with child _for _weeks, Mademoiselle. _I feared that if I didn't tell you, you would be far too shocked when you discovered your fate for yourself."

Éponine opened her mouth to differ against the disheartening reality, but instead met the fearsome eyes of Enjolras, turned aside, and threw up once more.


	7. Questions

**A/N**_: So I've come to realize a few things this week. One, that Wicked has an awesome soundtrack. Two, I really need to see Jurassic Park 3D, and three, that I'm seriously considering making a sequel to **One Day More**...? Let me know what you guys_ think!

**Questions**

_Pregnant?_ Enjolras thought tensely, turning away as the fiery headed nurse walked towards him feverishly.

The room continued to stir uncontrollably as his eyes searched feverishly for the waif. He made out a few hazy figures surrounding the bed across from him, Joly dwindling in and out of the center every so often.

He felt tears rush to his eyes spontaneously, causing him to let out a sharp cry.

"Don't mind him, he's still quite delusional." She gushed, patting his forehead gingerly with a moist cloth.

_Delusional?_ Then perhaps it had been his nightmares prompting him on the fact that Éponine was with child. After all, it was _highly_ possible, and something he hadn't given so much as a single thought to after the night he spent with her.

Besides, the girl was a _waif_. The child could have been from another just as easily as it could have been his!

But then he remembered the terrifying truth. He was her _first_.

Enjolras let out a yelp, catching everybody's attention, then sank back into his pillow and drifted off to sleep, his face contorted with worry.

"I'm worried about _Monsieur_ Enjolras, _Monsieur_ Joly. Should I take him to his own room again?" The nurse asked after moving a piece of her curly hair behind her ear.

"Yes!" Éponine gasped, choking back tears, "Please do."

Joly grimaced, "If it makes you feel better…"

"Yes it does."

"Very well then." Joly cleared his throat, "_Madame_, take Enjolras back to the third floor."

Julie nodded and carried on upstairs to ready Enjolras' previous room once more for him.

Éponine shook her head and dug her fingernails into her hair, pulling the strands forward. Grantaire and Courfeyrac watched in absolute awe.

"You – you're, um…" Courfeyrac muttered.

"Don't talk to me, both of you!" Éponine grumbled, wiping her bitter tears away from her cheeks and shoving her face in her pillow, "You've ruined my life!" She barked at Joly, who was just on his way to help relocate Enjolras.

"How is it _my _fault?" He gasped, placing a hand on his hip absent mindedly, "You could've never known about you dilemma and voila, one day, you'd give birth!"

"But I don't _want _a baby!" Éponine retorted.

"Well you should have thought about that before you – um,"

"I should have _never!_" She screamed before finally closing her bloodshot eyes and resting.

Thoughts flew through her mind so quickly that she began to pant.

Had Enjolras found out? His entire reputation would be shamed if he did.

What a father he would be! So fixated on _Patria_ that he wouldn't even give a single thought to his child - or the mother.

No one did.

His delirium was a blessing to them all, for without it, they would have to face his bitterness and heartbreak due to the loss of his battle and now, a baby on the way, with none other than the helpless Éponine.

Her thoughts had boiled to a point where she could feel them wearing her down. How she wished that the bullet she had taken for Marius had penetrated her heart, killing her that instant, for the moments that were to follow, would hold much more pain and sorrow.

What would Marius think of her? Surely he wouldn't think her any less than a hussy, and a slut. He already thought so little of her there was no room left for good in it anyways...

"Stop sobbing!" Courfeyrac begged, putting his hand on Éponine 's shoulder, "So what? You're pregnant! Haven't you always wanted to be a mother?"

"No." Éponine spit, batting away his hand, "And don't touch me either."

"My apologies…" Courfeyrac rolled his eyes and exchanged a glance with Grantaire, "So, um, who's the father? Do we know him?"

"Is he from our school?" Grantaire added, slightly annoyed.

"It's not Marius is it!?" He gasped, covering his mouth and turning a sickly green colour.

"No you idiots!" Éponine snapped, clenching her teeth, "Don't ask me! Don't talk to me! Don't you to have something better to do?" She shook slightly from her tears then took a deep breath and turned to face the boys.

"No, we really don't."

Éponine 's eyes widened and she narrowed them quickly, pursing her lips, "Fine."

"Can we at least guess?" Courfeyrac suggested, a smile creeping up on his face.

"No."

"Is he dead?" Grantaire asked, leaning forward.

"Stop it."

"Well is he?"

"Grantaire –"

"Please tell us." He begged, grinning from ear to ear.

After a moment of hesitation, she nodded, "Yes."

"_Merdre_!" Courfeyrac exclaimed, "Did he die at the barricades?" His voice cracked slightly on the last word and the light fell from Grantaire's eyes.

"Yes. He died at the barricades." Éponine lied smoothly, wincing at the memories, "No more questions for today."

"Tomorrow?"

"_Never_." She grimaced, turning away from the two and throwing the covers over her head.

...

Night fell sooner than expected, probably as a result of how frequently Éponine drifted off to sleep and soon again met the eager eyes of Courfeyrac.

Grantaire seemed less enthusiastic about the ordeal, probably as a result of his soberness. The boy hadn't drunk a single bottle for weeks on end, and even thought _Madame_ Julie prompted him often with bottles of brandy or wine (in moderation), he refused to drink them. He was slowly beginning to become more cynical than he was in the first place…

"Éponine ?" Courfeyrac asked suddenly, shifting slightly underneath his covers.

She refused to answer. What did he want? The boy had never spoken a word to her before in her entire existence with Marius. Why had he taken such a keen interest in her life all of a sudden?

"I'll come over there if you don't answer."

"_Don't you dare_." She stressed, emphasizing each syllable.

Courfeyrac grabbed his crutches and limped across the room swiftly, taking a seat on the edge of her bed and resting them on the night table cautiously.

"What do you want?" She moaned, rolling onto her back and sitting up.

Courfeyrac scanned the room slightly, then whispered, "It's Enjolras, isn't it?"

"Who is?" Éponine flared, her heart racing quicker than it ever had.

"You know what I'm talking about."

"No, I really don't." She exclaimed, shaking her head and averting her gaze, "Goodnight Courfeyrac."

"He'll be a good father I know, he's just a little –"

"_Goodnight._" She muttered once more, pulling the covers over her head angrily and muffling her tears with the pillow, "And not a word of this conversation to anybody. Do you understand?"

Several seconds passed before Éponine heard a faint "Yes," in return.


	8. Vivant

**A/N: **_Thank you to all my new followers/favouriters (that's not a word but it's okay) and reviewers! My browser wouldn't let me see who did any of that till now, so if I haven't thanked you personally yet, please know that I really appreciate everything for any of my stories, however many, so please keep 'em coming! Oh and I'm working on a Wicked fanfic (because I'm just a walking plot bunny at this point) so I'll be uploading that soon :)_

**Vivant****  
****(Alive)  
**

The June Rebellion had ended in a disaster, leaving a path of despair for the survivors that now wallowed in grief.

August had rolled in almost spontaneously, none of _les amis_ rid of their misery. Courfeyrac had tried desperately to keep the father of Éponine's child a secret, especially after that father had fully recovered. Grantaire had completely regained his cynical personality and was beginning to anger _Madame_ Julie day to day, causing her to slightly madden over the lengthy weeks that passed. Éponine was beginning to rid herself of morning sickness by taking brisk walks around the building at dawn. That way, she wouldn't risk being caught by Thénardier and Grantaire, and Courfeyrac wouldn't catch her slipping out either. Joly examined her as often as he could, but he found himself being demanded more and more by _Monsieur_ Enjolras.

By mid-August, Enjolras had gained his ability to speak fluently once more, but his determination had completely dissipated. The man had completely lost his will to live, and quite often, Éponine could hear him screaming in the dead of night, only becoming muffled when his sobs began. Although it broke her heart to see the man of marble crumble in front of her, she knew that keeping the child a secret was imperative – or he could permanently become indecorous.

Yet, day by passing day, she thanked the heavens that her father had not come after her and that her child had not begun showing. She also found herself praying that Marius was still alive and that her little brother and younger sister were well.

...

"_Monsieur_ Grantaire, go take a walk." _Madame_ Julie commanded gingerly, hoping not to set off the lad but also hoping to get him out of the house.

"Why would I do that?" He asked, raising an inky eyebrow.

"Because you haven't left the house in _weeks, Monsieur._ It's not healthy!" She retorted, shaking her head bitterly, "But do as you please, I guess."

"I will." He snickered, turning to face Éponine.

"_Madame's_ right, you know." She muttered, lifting her face out of her hands and meeting Grantaire's dazed eyes, "Some fresh air will do you wonders."

"Wonders…" He repeated cynically, "What if I don't want to be done wonders?"

"Then you don't." She shrugged.

Grantaire mocked her silently then shoved his face back in his pillow.

"I would go out if it weren't for my stupid leg."

"You can use your crutches _Monsieur_ Courfeyrac." _Madame_ Julie chimed, sticking her head in the passageway, "You're welcome to join Éponine on her morning walks any time."

Éponine bit her tongue and shot _Madame_ Julie an acidic look, "Thank you, _Madame_."

_Madame_ Julie shuddered slightly and disappeared behind the crooked walls once more.

"You _leave_?" Courfeyrac asked, his jaw slightly hanging open.

"It's not a prison you know. Besides, exercise is good for you…"

"No – you're not just doing it for exercise are you?"

"Yes I am!"

"No, you're not." Courfeyrac grinned omnisciently, "You're just trying to avoid _him._"

"Who?" Éponine laughed, shrugging, but she knew how well Courfeyrac had read past her tactics. She knew Enjolras would wake in the early morning and fall asleep later towards the afternoon and evening. The longer she stayed out, the longer it worked out to her plan.

"Do you think he –"

"Stop talking." Éponine begged through her teeth, knowing that Grantaire was listening even though he seemed to be asleep.

"I will, only if I can come with you on your walks."

Éponine hesitated for a moment, then huffed, "Fine."

...

Enjolras pulled at his tufts of hair mercilessly. He wished he could tug off his skull if he could, drown in his own blood, die of pain.

_But he was alive_.

He was alive enough to feel every ounce of excruciating defeat and hopelessness consuming him from the inside with each passing hour.

What unholy force had caused him to live after being penetrated with _eight bullets_? Why was he still living?

He pounded his fist on the night table beside him violently and let out a yelp.

_Madame_ Julie walked in with a pair of crutches in her pale arms, "_Monsieur_, are you alright?"

"Perfect." He replied cynically, riveting his attention away from her.

"_Monsieur_ Joly recommends you try walking today."

"Walking?" Enjolras could feel his breath stop in his throat. He hadn't moved in what seemed like _years_.

"Yes, I've brought you crutches. _Monsieur_ Courfeyrac uses them as well and they're working quite well –"

"_Madame_ Julie, I have no intention of moving."

"But-"

"Please, _Madame_."

_Madame_ Julie dropped the crutches suddenly and trembled with rage, her sprinkle of freckles becoming more intense under her now scarlet skin, "You and your band of _boys_. I swear…" She muttered, moving swiftly out of the room and shutting the door behind her.

Enjolras' jaw dropped slightly as he mounted himself decrepitly to a sitting position. His torso had gone completely numb and his arms and legs were the only things keeping him from collapsing. He reached over to grab the fallen crutches but stumbled to the floor instead, unable to move and panting feverishly.

"Oh dear God…" He swallowed angrily, ample with fear and worry, "_Madame_ – _Madame_ Julie!" He called out, shamed at his sudden desperation for support.

The door to his room swung upon again, hitting the wall with a _bang_, but it was not the fiery headed nurse standing by the doorway.

"Oh my!" Éponine cried out, running to him promptly. She began to hitch her hand underneath his arms but he let out a sharp cry and faltered.

"My wounds are there." He muttered dishonourably. He hung his head in such a way that Éponine couldn't help but feel a twinge of sorrow for the poor man. She lowered herself to his level slowly and met his eyes, trying to speak as soundlessly as she could.

"Would you like me to call _Monsieur_ Joly?"

Enjolras returned her gaze, still slightly aghast, and nodded. He began to remind her of a small child in need of care…

"I'll see to it then." She chimed, scrambling to her feet. Looking once more to him to check if he'd be alright, she darted down the stairs to Joly's office.

The young medical student's office was something to marvel at. He had somehow converted an office out of nothing but a large coat closet near the front door. His architecturally brilliant design had made it simple for him to travel to his patients, to the local market and postal office, and to read in silence and excellent lighting in his office.

When he met the eyes of a panting Éponine, he had just finished his evening stroll, picking up the mail on his way home. He held three letters in his hands this time, in soft pastel colours.

"_Mademoiselle_ Éponine, what are you doing up?" Joly asked, looking behind her for any sign of _Madame_ Julie.

"_Monsieur _Enjolras fell!" She yelped, "I'm worried he'll do something terrible if nobody helps him."

Joly's eyes widened frantically as he marched to the stairs and began to run to the young revolutionary's room. Éponine followed closely behind him and reminded herself often to refuse any eye contact with _Monsieur _Enjolras.

He had heard of her pregnancy at the peak of his delirium – but what if he had understood the words they'd uttered? The horror on his face at that moment depicted absolute shock; he knew very well that if she was with child it was his.

"Good lord Enjolras, do you not care about your own health? You could've torn the stitches!" Joly cried, lifting the browbeaten boy effortlessly and placing him on the bed. Leaving his letters on the floor, Éponine eyed them and read the cursive writing with slight difficulty.

"_Monsieur_ Joly, may I pick up your letters?" She asked, bending down and grabbing them anyways.

Once Joly had secured Enjolras to his bed, he turned to face Éponine and took the letters from her urgently.

"Who are they from?"

Joly sighed and read the ivory one, "Musichetta," he blushed at the sound of her name, and then flipped to the faded yellow one, "Jeanette, and-" he nearly dropped the pile when he reached the crimson envelope.

"What is it?" Enjolras asked, shuffling to a sitting position.

"I don't believe it…" Joly sighed, pacing in circles anxiously.

Éponine furrowed her eyebrows and grabbed the letter from his hand, scanning it with her eager eyes frantically. She dropped the letter and squealed with joy and excitement.

"What is it?" Enjolras repeated, staring perplexedly at the waif and the doctor.

"Pontmercy's alive…" Joly sighed, exchanging an awkward glance with Éponine.

"I must tell the others!" She shouted, smiling like a fool and making her way downstairs.

Joly shook his head, disappointed and sat on the edge of Enjolras' bed, "She'll be heartbroken once she finds out…"

"Finds out?" Enjolras raised an eyebrow, feeling a strand of his golden hair on his skin.

"He's gotten married."


	9. Secrets

**A/N**: _Sorry for not updating! In other news, I've been finishing up 'the brick' (and by that I mean I'm in the mid 200's), and my English teacher has dashed my hopes of being a writer. I've put off my writing for a while, but it's all good. I'm back... That was depressing, I apologize - back to Moonless Skies! Don't forget to review s'il vous plait :)._

**Secrets**

Éponine sat eagerly in the center of Joly's compact office with an assemblage of medical books surrounding her. She had just read up on _Common Causes for the Flu _and a short medical essay Joly had written during his time at medical school, but somehow never submitted. At least, she assumed so, as it had never been graded.

It still seemed strange to her that somebody she knew was so educated and well off in the society. He, as well as Enjolras and Courfeyrac, was a _bourgeois_, yet peculiarly despised the entire lot of them immensely. It was particularly amusing to Éponine to see them so invested, emotionally and physically, in revolting against them. In fact, if Enjolras ever had a moment to spare on a simple daydream, it would undoubtedly be about freeing his 'Patria'.

Éponine thought of the man of marble quite often, especially after his fall days ago. Had he known about her secret? Is that why he had been acting so hostile? Then again, there was barely ever a passing hour in which Enjolras wasn't acting contentious and determined - within good intentions of course.

The front door swung open suddenly and allowed an abrupt breeze to blew into the office, shutting Éponine 's newest read and severing her thoughts.

She turned her head sharply to find Joly standing behind her, a look of frustration on his usually cheerful and optimistic visage.

"What are you doing?" He asked, shrugging off his waistcoat and loosening his silky cravat.

"Reading." She responded coolly, standing up and handing Joly's report to him, "You should give this in to a hospital. You'd be hired in the blink of an eye."

"What were you reading this for?"

"Pleasure." She smiled, "I don't understand much of it, but it's good... makes you sound _intelligent_..." Éponine clicked her tongue, "Well, you _are_."

"Me?" He snorted and shook his head, "I have a practice, I'm well off, I-"

"You're struggling with money." She stated easily, startling Joly slightly, "I read your letters to a _Monsieur_ Furnier…?"

"My grandfather!? Éponine , you have no business in these things!" He let out an obnoxious sigh, "You need to find a job. Get out, get some fresh air and earn some money for _yourself_."

"_I_ need a job?" She giggled, "Joly, I'm only trying to help…"

"Help!?" Joly rolled his eyes and sucked in some air, letting it out slowly, "Fine. Thank you Éponine , but please, stop eavesdropping! What would Marius think now that he's-" but he had said too much. Covering his mouth swiftly, Joly tried to brush off his words but Éponine had clenched her fists together and was beginning to turn red.

"What do you mean?" She snapped, eyeing the crimson envelope in his hand, "Joly, tell me!"

"No! It's none of your business!" He pivoted on his heel triumphantly and began walking up the stairs but Éponine sped along behind him.

"He's what? Is he visiting?" She urged, tugging on his turned-up collar.

"Stop it."

"What is Marius doing that I can't know?" She huffed angrily.

"_Monsieur_ Joly!" _Madame_ Julie suddenly asserted, putting her hand on her hip, "_Monsieur_ Enjolras needs your help."

Joly's face contorted with annoyance but he shrugged it off and moved up the stairs promptly. Éponine followed, planning how to snatch the envelope as quickly as she possibly could. Before she could reach out and steal the envelope from the young doctor, Courfeyrac had caught her sleeve and seized her attention. He was holding his crutches desperately underneath his bleach white shirt sleeve and had somehow managed to lever himself to the fifth step. Feeling a twinge of guilt, Éponine dismounted the steps; watching Joly and his news from Marius flee.

"What is it?" She sputtered, feeling the heat in her cheeks begin to disperse.

"I wanted to know if you'd told _him_ yet," then he swallowed his words and shook his head, "you weren't just about to do that – were you?"

"No!" She snarled, "Why on Earth would I tell him?"

"Because he's the father!" Courfeyrac spat a little louder than he should have. Éponine flicked his ear and watched him yip in pain. She then proceeded to urgently help him down the steps and drag him into their room, shutting the door behind them. Grantaire's bed was empty.

"What are you mad at _me_ for?" Courfeyrac gushed, "It's not my fault you won't tell the father of your _own_ child that you're pregnant!"

"I don't _want_ him to know!" She differed, "I've never wanted him to know! The whole night was a stupid mistake! A mistake!" She repeated, falling to her knees miserably. Courfeyrac stood in his place desolately, letting out a spontaneous sigh and patting Éponine 's greasy hair.

"I'm so sorry." He muttered, "I shouldn't have said anything - I just, I don't like _this_."

Éponine raised her head and smiled sadly, "I don't like it either, at least your not pregnant..."

"At least I'm not dead." Courfeyrac choked, letting a tear slip down his cheek.

Éponine noticed a strange thing then. Something that seemed to be put off quite often. _It had only been weeks since the death of their friends_. Joly, Courfeyrac, and Grantaire had had only a few measly weeks to fully recover from the death of their closest friends. _Their brothers_. And what sensitivity had Éponine shown? More than the three amis, Enjolras had hopes of his entire revolution dashed and burned out. Everything he had ever stood for, dreamed about, wanted in life - gone...

Éponine shut her eyes briefly, trying to imagine what it would be like to lose everything, and Marius flashed across it. If he were dead, never to return, she would have killed herself too. A life without him would be no life at all.

Opening them, she let tears drip down her reddening cheeks and faced Courfeyrac once more.

"You'll tell him eventually though, won't you?"

"I don't think I can." She admitted, lifting herself off the ground and taking a seat on a vacant bed. She could not bear letting that man lose his dignity as well.

"He'd be a great father, really –"

"No," she laughed, "no it's not that."

"Then – what?" Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow and placed his crutches on a nearby table, sitting next to the waif.

Éponine shook her head, "He has enough on his mind."

"Éponine ," the boy began, tilting his head slightly to the left, "do you wish you didn't have a father?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"'Cause he's awful." She choked and Courfeyrac winced, disheartened.

"Well what if he weren't. What if he were caring and wonderful. What if he loved you. Would you still not want him."

Éponine bit her tongue and shook her head, "Nah, I'd want him."

"Now, imagine having a little baby girl, and one day she'd ask who her papa is - what would you say?"

"He's dead."

"No. You wouldn't." He felt anger rise in his throat, "_Merdre, _Éponine , you wouldn't have to have that conversation because you'd have Enjolras!"

"No, I won't! He wouldn't _stay_ with me. He won't care."

"Ugh, if he won't - _I _will!"

Éponine smirked and let out a snort, "That's awfully nice to hear." She wiped away a few tears and shrugged, "I don't know how I could ever tell Marius about this mess."

"Éponine –"

"But then again," she stood to her feet and began to pace anxiously, "he'll have to care about me if he knows I have Enjolras' baby on the way!" Her face lit up and her eyes were set aglow.

Courfeyrac placed a hand over his mouth. Was all this woman thought about Marius?

He opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted by Joly's presence at the door. Surprised by his appearance, Éponine fell back and covered her mouth as well.

"Enjolras!?" He yelled, followed by Grantaire's gasp. The former drunk soon made an appearance in the room as well, the three suddenly surrounding a weeping Éponine .

"Enjolras is the father to _your baby_?" Joly sputtered, "That's preposterous! He would never… um…"

"Well he did!" She coughed bitterly, slightly offended.

"Éponine , surely it must have been someone else's child –"

"You think I'm a prostitute?" She spat, "It was one night!"

Grantaire's eyes widened and fell darkly suddenly, "What?"

"Don't ask me." She concluded, "Now you all know. Are you happy?"

"Well not particularly," Grantaire swallowed, furrowing his dark eyebrows.

"Stop it!" Courfeyrac exclaimed suddenly.

"What?" Joly snapped, "Did you know?"

"Of course I knew!" He admitted, "But I've kept it a secret longer than you two ever could!"

"Yeah right!" Grantaire argued.

"But you _must_ keep it a secret." Éponine commanded, "Enjolras must never know."

Joly clicked his tongue, "Now, it's not my baby, Éponine , but I would advise you to tell Enjolras."

"Why on Earth would I do that?"

"Because he's the father!" Grantaire concluded, followed by nods from Courfeyrac and Joly, "It's his baby too."

"Well, till I decide I will tell him, not a word to a single person. Do you understand?"

"Very well, _Mademoiselle._" Joly agreed, bowing slightly in her direction, making her giggle.

She gripped her stomach gingerly and sighed as the two men left the room, leaving her and Courfeyrac alone.

"Don't you feel better?" He asked, tilting his head to the side and grinning.

"Ever so slightly." She muttered, slipping on some slippers and moving towards the door, "I'll feel better once I tell Marius."

"No, Éponine –" but she had shut the door and set off to write to her beloved.


	10. Invasion

**A/N: **_Thanks again for all the support, reviews, follows, and faves! Oh and I have an idea... I'm going to let you guys decide Éponine and Enjolras' baby's name, depending on where the story leads to. I'll let you know when 'voting' closes, please leave me your ideas in the reviews! Thanks_ :D

**Invasion**

Éponine squirmed in her spot as Enjolras' frightened screams echoed through the empty hallways, leaving her exasperated.

Courfeyrac and Grantaire slept peacefully in the dim light of the room, the candles beside their messy beds casting glorious shadows around the darkened chamber.

Was he alright?

Another set of screams rattled Éponine's cluttered thoughts as she dug her fingernails into her silky covers anxiously. Throwing the sheets aside, she slid out of bed and grabbed the candle beside her, holding it gingerly in its silver tray, careful not to let the hot wax hit the floor, knowing she would surely hear about it from Madame Julie the next morning.

Moving cautiously on her tip-toes, she heard the low moans of the wooden floors underneath her padded footsteps. The sound of falling books followed by another set of frightened sobs caused Éponine to halt in the middle of the staircase, listening closely to the sound of her own breath against her racing heart.

Suddenly, Enjolras had silenced and she began to hurry swiftly to his chambers, hoping that Joly had not awakened yet.

The slight opening in the young revolutionary's room allowed Éponine to view his strong arms covering his damp face, his chest rising and falling so quickly that she couldn't even make out every breath he was taking.

Moving towards the door slower and slower, she debated whether or not to disrupt his moments to himself.

Enjolras quickly shot up, causing Éponine to blow out her candle light and blend into the shadows seamlessly, batting away the smoke as quickly as she could. She covered her mouth and muffled her breath, watching as the boy turned in his covers and stuffed his head into his pillows desolately.

It seemed almost like a dream to watch the once indestructible man break down so hopelessly in front of her; but it was too difficult to break her gaze. She moved closer to his bedroom, listening to the wooden floors creak ever so slightly beneath her feet once more. Enjolras cocked his head up and locked eyes with her for a brief instant, causing her to falter and stumble backwards quickly.

His eyes were red and filled with tears, his hair fallen so mercilessly upon his brow that he looked like a different person. Éponine remained in her place for a few more moments, hoping he had not seen her. As he turned away, she breathed out thankfully and hurried down the stairs.

...

Joly found Éponine in his office once more upon arriving from the local market, arms full of eggs and a fresh trout.

"Would you mind to help me?" He asked, handing the carton of brown eggs to the waif as she straightened her rags. Joly frowned and tilted his head slightly, scanning Éponine with his bright eyes.

"What are you looking at?" She frowned, "I'm not showing yet, am I?"

"No, no," Joly shook his head, "you need some new clothes."

Éponine ignored him and turned on her heel, headed for the kitchen. She could see wisps of _Madame_ Julie's frizzy orange hair peeking out from behind the oven. Had she delivered her letter to Marius yet?

"You must also take another bath. How long has it been since the last time you bathed Éponine?" Joly continued.

"A few weeks…" she shook her head and snorted.

Joly gasped and took the eggs from Éponine, placing them on his desk and grabbing her by the arm, "_Mademoiselle_, follow me."

Éponine soon found herself in_ Madame _Julie's chambers, with Joly searching through her old clothes and picking out anything that seemed as though it wouldn't fall off Éponine's fragile body. Julie soon joined the two, sending Joly off and leading Éponine to the bathroom across from Enjolras' chambers. Beginning a warm bath for Éponine, she occasionally glanced at the sleeping boy and then back at her.

"_Monsieur_ Enjolras will need one too…" She muttered quietly to herself, ignoring the fact that Éponine was beginning to doze off.

"Why doesn't he go before me?" Éponine suggested, sitting up and glancing at a bright, lavender coloured dress the nurse had just handed to her.

"Oh no, that wouldn't be right." She mused, handing Éponine another set of colourful dresses.

"But I insist!" Éponine continued, hoping to warm her up before asking her about the letter, "He hasn't bathed since the attack - he's far more important than I am right now."

"You'd think so." She smiled kindly, dipping her pale hand inside the water to test the temperature, "He's been so furious lately…" She continued, "I'm beginning to fear for the boy. My husband says he won't get any better, but I can't worry_ Monsieur_ Joly with such things." Her face lit up but then fell suddenly.

Éponine raised her eyebrows, "_Monsieur_ Joly wouldn't mind _Madame_." Seeing as the glow in the young nurse's cheeks did not fade, Éponine asked, "How did you and Joly meet?"

"A friend of mine is his sister and suggested I help him when he opened up his practice. Then, I moved to Paris and met my husband so, I stayed."

"For your husband?"

"More or less." Julie shrugged, "_Monsieur_ Joly has been kind enough to let me stay here for the past few months."

"Where did you live before?"

"Rives, and before that, Sweden." Julie smiled and brushed her hair away from her face, "I will go get _Monsieur_ Enjolras. Why don't you rest till then _Mademoiselle_?" Julie gave a small bow and swept past Éponine, leaving her thankful of the nurse's decision but curious about her past. Enough so that the letter had slipped her mind. Why had she stayed with Joly while her husband resided in Paris?

Éponine stood to her feet, discarding the pretty_ bourgeois_ dresses, and following the sound of Enjolras soft and helpless whimpers. It must not have been so strange for_ Madame_ Julie to see the man like this, but still, something to marvel at, especially since the previous night.

Enjolras gripped his crutches with so much force is was a wonder they hadn't cracked and splintered yet as the nurse guided him cautiously down the hallway.

Éponine hid silently behind the brick walls, hoping Julie would not spot her. Enjolras' eyes followed his feet, widening when he yelped, making Julie tighten her grip on him.

Her heart began to melt at the sight.

He wouldn't want her to see him in such a state. She turned away briefly, waiting until the bathroom's door shut and Madame Julie strolled out to continue her small voyage.

"If you need anything, call for_ Monsieur_ Joly," she pleaded, heading downstairs at the doctor's sudden call.

Éponine hesitated to move, but carried on willingly into Enjolras' messy room, shutting the door behind her swiftly.

She quickly came face to face with his previously blood stained covers, some strands of his golden hair fallen on the pillow at the head of his bed. The smell of alcohol was so pungent in the room it made Éponine cover her face with a rag and breathe in its dirt. Looking around frantically for what she came in for, the waif sank to the messy floor.

She didn't have a reason. Not a single one.

A series of books lay around her, opened, although she doubted he could read them in the state he was in…

Looking about her curiously, Éponine grabbed a leather bound book and brought it close to her face, breathing in the old dust and coughing perplexedly for a moment. She might as well take something while she had invaded his privacy…

Sheltering it underneath her arm, she headed for the door promptly but turned back as soon as she heard more footsteps sounding in the hallway. Ducking behind the young boy's unmade bed, she buried herself in the mounds of loose covers, shoving her face in the dusty novel to muffle her breaths.

Enjolras stood, bare footed, a mere towel covering his body at the door, shaking his head and letting a few tears hit the floor bitterly.

As he moved towards the bed, Éponine moved farther underneath it, until she was completely covered by it, careful not to damage her stomach. Looking above her she caught a glimpse of the man she had shared a brief night with so long ago.

He now possessed a series of long scars intertwining with one another, a larger circle at the centre of each one. They had all turned a gruesome scarlet colour and were bruised deeply, turning slightly yellow on the edges. Éponine sucked in some air and held in her mouth, watching dolefully as Enjolras leaned against the shut door despairingly.

"_Mademoiselle_," he began, locking eyes with her once more, the intimidation in his voice returning, "I cannot fathom why you have such a keen interest in my room, but if you simply wish to read, take the book with you on your way _out_."

Éponine's cheeked suddenly burned, turning crimson as she jostled to her feet, pushed past Enjolras, and fled down the winding stairs, leaving him with a creeping smile upon his face.


	11. Un Plan Et Quelques Nouvelles

**A/N:** _I hope this chapter's not too confusing... Also, if all goes well, make sure to drop some baby names off in the reviews! I'm leaving it up to the readers to choose :) Oh! And thanks for all the follows this week!_

**Un Plan Et Quelques Nouvelles  
(A Plan and Some News)**

Montparnasse stirred in his spot, shielding himself from Thenardier's burning gaze.

"What are you looking at?" He snapped, reaching out and grabbing a compass the old villain had been fiddling with, "And where'd you get this from?"

"Babet nabbed it for me! Ain't it a beauty?" His eyes were set aglow suddenly, causing Montparnasse to stifle a laugh.

"What 'appened to the one Eponine nabbed for you?" He snapped, opening and closing its lustrous lid anxiously.

"Disappeared with her…" He muttered, "You 'aven't seen her, 'ave you?"

"Can't say I 'ave." Montparnasse shrugged, "It's been weeks ain't it?"

Thenardier nodded and yanked the compass away from the young con artist, "There's a prize on the 'eads of those who rebelled ya know."  
Babet sat up suddenly, listening in on their conversation, shaking his head, "Their all dead!"

Montparnasse nodded, "Not one measly soul left."

"I'm not buyin' it!" Thenardier grumbled, furrowing his eyebrows, a million thoughts flying through his menacing mind. Montparnasse exchanged a glance with Babet as he muttered something unintelligible to himself. What was the old fool thinking?

...

Joly fumbled with a pair of scissors in his hands, sending them flying past his feet and sliding onto the sleek wooden floors. Madame Julie stumbled backwards, holding in a laugh and sharing an awkward glance with the frustrated doctor.

"What are you doing? She giggled, picking up the fallen scissors and handing them to him bashfully.

"Enjolras needs some gauze…" he muttered, tearing pieces of his stash off with his hands instead, "he's been bleeding something awful."

"That's not good." The nurse shook her head and frowned, "You seem awfully nervous though…"

Joly glanced up at her and turned red, "Do I?"

"Very much." She gushed, "Is there anything I can assist you with?"

"Musichetta needs me to visit her, it's been months but -"

The nurse's face fell, "But what?"

Joly placed a hand on a nearby table and sighed nervously, "Marius and his wife are visiting."

"_Wife?_" She coughed, "When?"

"Tomorrow." Joly took out his pipe and held it in the palm of his hand, searching for a match, "I don't know how to break it to _Mademoiselle_ Eponine…"

"Break what to _Mademoiselle _Eponine?" The waif herself asked curiously, appearing from behind the wall.

"Have you been eavesdropping?" Joly asked sarcastically, "I told you time and time again not to do that…"

"I was not eavesdropping, _Monsieur_." She lied smoothly, causing the young man to cock up an eyebrow and smirk.

"Very well then," Joly turned on his heel and headed up the stairs, "_Mademoiselle._"

He had just begun to smirk in triumph when the moment was slaughtered by Eponine's menacing chortle.

The waif spun on her heel and faced the pair, "Why wouldn't you tell me Marius was visiting!?"

Joly seemed so aghast his face suddenly became a bright pink, warming his usually pale cheeks. Searching erratically for an answer, he stood dumbfounded in front of her.

"You _lied_ to me!" She gasped, "Joly you – _you've_ been hiding this for days, haven't you!?" She growled, sending him cowering behind _Madame_ Julie.

"When is he coming!?" She demanded, cornering him and grabbing the soft collar of his shirt, something he had become beyond used to, yet was terrified of, "Tell me!"

After a moment of hesitation and blatant fear, he managed to yelp, "Tomorrow you bloody lunatic!".

Breaking free of her grip and arming himself with the pair of scissors he had previously dropped, Joly let out a sigh of relief after Eponine smiled to herself in pride and moved away from the pair, excited to share her news with the boys.

...

Enjolras had become accustomed to Eponine's bursts of energy at some point during the everlasting day, but nothing compared to this one.

He could hear Grantaire's gravelly voice accompanied by Courfeyrac's fruity laughter, sending shivers up his spine.

Even Eponine's frequent giggles sent the shivers up his spine; especially the more often they ran into each other.

With each encounter, the more he was reminded of the night they spent together. The memory sat at the back of his mind like every other agonizing memory he held in his heart and mind with each passing hour. Did she no longer have the slightest memory of their time together? Had she forgotten so easily?

_No matter_, he thought, _she is a gamine, and a waif. I do not care about her_.

It wasn't until he shut his eyes that he realized she had made her way up to tell him the news she seemed so ecstatic about earlier, undoubtedly about Marius.

Would he open his eyes? Greet her? Speak to her as if he were interested?

Before he could come to a decision, he realized that she was not meaning to come in the room in the first place. Just watch from afar like before.

What fascination was this?

It seemed more like madness to Enjolras; a women who had nothing to do with him, watching him in his chambers day and night. What had come over her?

Looking at her face through squinted eyes, he could almost see "Marius is visiting" lingering on her lips, yet, she held back.

An aching pain in his abdomen suddenly returned and Enjolras was jolted back up to a sitting position, grasping at his bandages.

Eponine stumbled backwards, frightened, "J- Joly!"

Enjolras shot her a look and tears welled up in her eyes. Grasping her stomach tenderly, she hurried down the stairs calling for the doctor.


	12. Impossible

**A/N: **_So, I wasn't going to include an author's note in this chapter, but a lot of you have been asking me when Eponine will tell Enjolras about the baby - so I hope this chapter answers that question :) Also, I know I have a few anonymous reviewers, so thank you very much for reading Klauslover and PhoenixGirl97, and the rest of you as always!_

**Impossible**

Grantaire gripped an unopened bottle of _Chablis_ wretchedly in his right hand, keeping his tired eyes on Eponine's steady strides, careful to always follow behind her.

When she turned down _Boulevard du Maine_, checking behind her hastily, he stumbled slightly but continued behind the girl.

Soon after, they found themselves facing a dimly lit _Ermitage_ – their model cakes almost glistening in the window.

She had wanted to drag him out there to get his mind off his continuous, scarring nightmares – but seemed to have forgotten about her original intentions half way there.

"They still look marvelous " He muttered under his breath, eager to break the silence between them.

Placing the aged bottle of wine on the pavement beneath his feet, he felt the cool breeze that swirled around them sending strands of his inky hair flying across his forehead.

"Doesn't it feel good?" Eponine whispered, smiling at Grantaire as he returned her gaze bitterly.

He clicked his tongue, "It could be _better._"

Eponine shook her head distastefully. She had figured his comments were simply a result of his soberness shining through his masked enthusiasm at this time in the morning.

He suddenly knocked over the _Chablis_ and bent to the _rue_ frantically to pick it up, "I swear, if Joly finds out that we took his wine on the walk _with us_ –"

"He won't care." Eponine differed, "I took it so he knows we left."

Grantaire shook his head pathetically, apparently having come up with a higher meaning to her words.

"What is it?"

The boy shook his head and cradled the bottle in his arms absent mindedly, "So it had nothing to do with me?"

Eponine shook her head and grabbed the bottle from him, "It was for me."

Grantaire raised a suspicious eyebrow and chuckled, "You're with child, _mon cherie_, I'm no fool. You were trying to get me to drink again."

"No." Eponine sighed, furrowing her dark eyebrows and letting out a long sigh, "It's for Marius."

"Marius?" Then the realization that his long awaited visit was today hit him, "And why the sudden _celebration_?"

His bitterness had returned.

"No, Grantaire it's just because-"

"You still love him."

Eponine opened her mouth but fell silent, the only noise between the two the slight whistle of the wind around the buildings.

"I wrote him a letter, and he never responded. He'll remember me today, we'll - we'll walk him to Joly's office and –"

"You do know that you're a soon to be _mother_, as I've mentioned earlier, and that _Enjolras _is the father – not Marius."

Although it was an obvious truth, Eponine looked as offended as she'd ever been.

"I don't need you to guide my life in the right or wrong direction."

"Great, because you seem to be doing a pretty great job of dragging it the wrong way." His voice cracked and suddenly Eponine knew she wasn't seeing something that was clearly there in him.

The way Grantaire dragged his feet when he walked, the way his voice fell and raised and how angry he seemed. What was wrong?

"What am I doing?" Eponine snapped, crossing her arms across her chest angrily.

It took no time for him to say, "You're doing everything for Marius and ignoring the _father of your child_. I haven't even seen his face since that blasted barricade and you have the audacity to ignore somebody who will be a part of your life and your babies _forever_. I would've given anything for him to _have_ to be part of my life, and honestly, you seem like you couldn't care less."

"It's NOT that easy!" She screamed, causing her shrieks to echo across the empty streets and Grantaire to stumble backwards, "I can't just _tell him_. I can't change his life before he even had it put together Grantaire. _I can't_."

"But then – why Marius?"

Eponine froze suddenly, refusing to answer his question but also staring at something in the distance. Grantaire turned to see what had caught her eye, and caught sight of the carriage holding all of Eponine's dreams nearing them.

"Eponine," he began once he realized why she seemed to be close to tears, "Eponine don't do anything you'll re-" but the waif had pushed past him and run off in the other direction, tears welling in her eyes and dripping down her cheeks.

Eponine had seen Marius and s_he _was in his carriage with him.

_She_, with her big sapphire eyes and tufts of magnificent blonde hair falling elegantly in ringlets from beneath her bonnet. _She_, who had caused Eponine's parents to hand Eponine all of the chores _she_ once had to do instead. _She_, who Marius had caught sight of and fallen in love so quickly that every last thought of Eponine, was obliterated.

Eponine moved so quickly that by the time the breaths in her throat began to burn on the way out of her mouth, she was standing back in front of Joly's practice.

She quickly saw the carriage parked nearby, and heard the desperate pants of Grantaire trying to catch up with her.

Moving swiftly into the house, she avoided Marius' voice although it nearly stopped her heart, and ran into her room, shutting the door behind her and sinking against it.

Marius was here and she barely had the heart to face him and his new wife.

_Wife._

He had made his vows with her alongside him – they were bound together. Now, he wouldn't care for her at all...

Suddenly, a churning in her stomach caused her to jump to her feet. What was that?

Again, it churned. Was – was the baby _moving_?

Eponine stood and looked at her reflection in the window; her stomach had a slight bulge, not notably larger, but large enough to notice if pointed out.

She took a deep breath and felt another churning, gentler this time. Her cheeks flushed red and tears filled her eyes once more, but for different reasons.

_She was pregnant_.

For the first time since hearing the news, it had become clear as day to her that she really was going to be a mother. She was going to have to raise a child soon - all by herself.

She shook the dismal thought from her head and straightened up, Grantaire's voice echoing down the hallway, his words still engraved in her mind. She didn't have to raise the baby alone – if she told Enjolras. Just two simple words and he would know.

Marius voice echoed too, filled with so much happiness it broke her heart. He must have thought everyone died, he must have been completely broken after the barricades... Maybe that's why he married Cosette – from sheer loneliness.

An idea popped into Eponine's head suddenly – if she confronted Marius, maybe he would realize how much help she needed with the pregnancy since Enjolras is too ill to understand. Surely his Cosette holds less value than an old friend in need.

Bursting through the door and running to the kitchen, where Grantaire, Courfeyrac, Joly, Julie, Cosette, and Marius where huddled over some _Chablis_, Eponine froze at the sight, her breath taken away by him. His eyes were much more somber, harder, his auburn hair falling slightly over his forehead.

"Eponine?" He whispered, aghast by what he was seeing as well.

Although she did not give herself much credit, Eponine had grown out her dark hair and cleared up her skin. She had gained a few much needed pounds since becoming pregnant and had worn some tidier clothes that _Madame _Julie had loaned her. She was no longer the filthy Eponine he had pitied on the streets.

"Marius!" She exclaimed, jumping into his arms although he did not offer her an embrace, "Did you get my letter!? Did you read it!?"

Trying to give her husband a break, Cosette moved forward and blocked Eponine from him "How do you do _Mademoiselle_?"  
Her voice was soft and gentle.

"Fine thanks." She said no more, pushing Cosette aside to speak with Marius.

"I had no idea, you were – um," Cosette continued, "but congratulations. I'm sure you'll be a fantastic mother Eponine."

Eponine stopped, "Oh, thank you. It's such a shame I'll be raising my child with no help _at all_," her gaze shifted to Marius.

"Can Enjolras be of no assistance?"

He_ had_ read the letter...

"Too ill to move." She responded, shooting Joly a look when he looked close to objecting.

"I have to go congratulate him! It must have been grand news after –" his voice faded and Cosette gripped his hand tightly. Eponine eyed the embrace enviously, cringing at the sight.

"You mustn't bother him." Julie said, passing Eponine a glance, "He's been in and out of fits for days – a shame really. Eponine, be a dear and go upstairs, give him a glass of water." She passed Marius an apologetic look as she handed Eponine a cup full of cool water, "He'd be much to happy when he sees you, I'm worried he'll do something he'll regret."

Marius nodded and Eponine moved hesitantly up the stairs to his room, one hand on her stomach that churned every once in a while.

Enjolras was not in his bed today, like usual, he was propped up in a chair, facing the open door, a gentle breeze rolling from his open window.

"_Bonjour Monsieur_." Eponine chimed miserably, walking in with the water.

He did not respond, only took a look at Eponine's tear filled eyes and shook his head.

"He's here, isn't he?" He asked, catching her off guard, "Why aren't you with him?"

"I was,_ Monsieur - _now, if you'll excuse me." Eponine pushed the door aside before being stopped by Enjolras' cough. Pivoting to face him, she placed a hand on her hip and took a deep breath.

"What is it?"

"I would just," Enjolras too seemed slightly hesitant to say much to her, but managed to say, "I would spend a little less time around Pontmercy."

The look of horror in Eponine's eyes was enough for Enjolras to know never to talk to her on such a level again. Running down the stairs, ashamed of her encounter, Eponine prepared herself to talk to Marius once more, but he was nowhere to be seen. In fact – nobody was.

Running back up the stairs frantically, and into Enjolras' room where the window facing the front of the practice opened up, she peered down onto the streets and nearly choked at the scene.

Marius' carriage was leaving and everyone had been there to bid him farewell but her. She turned to face Enjolras sharply.

"This is your fault!"

"Pardon me?"

"You kept me up here so long – that Marius Pontmercy _left_. He's gone with that idiot _bourgeois_ and I can promise you he won't come to help me take care of our –" but she cut herself off, horrified of the words that nearly came flying out of her big mouth.

_Our baby?_ Had she really almost said that?

"Our?" Enjolras asked, his voice weak and confused, "What's ours?"

"Nothing." Eponine snapped, turning away from him covering her mouth, a hand on her stomach as she ran down the stairs.

"EPONINE!" He called out, but there was no answer.

Hand on her stomach? Implying that she shared something with him? It couldn't be…


	13. La Vérité

**La Vérité  
(The truth)**

Joly had grown slightly bitter within the week, especially after Marius' visit.

It had become difficult to tend to three different patients who could not even bear to speak to one another. Grantaire and Eponine wouldn't even acknowledge each other's existence, or Enjolras'. Courfeyrac, with Marius' help, had traveled back to his apartment, having grown tired of Joly's practice. He had promised to still visit every day, hoping to one day take Eponine and Grantaire, if they permit him, back to live with him until they were better off.

Still, without Courfeyrac, it was as dismal as it had ever been. Even Eponine would refuse to speak with Marius, and Julie was hostile around Joly since he had been visiting Musichetta. It wasn't until they were alone, completely alone, that Joly would talk to Julie on a more intimate level, causing her to lean in, listen to his every word, cherish each sentence that was uttered towards her. He could never know how much she enjoyed spending time with him, and the way he and Musichetta flourished with one other, he never would.

"Would you like to come visit Musichetta with me? Jeanette is visiting soon as well -"

"Jeanette?" Julie responded, shaking her head, "It's been so long since I've seen my old friend…"

"Yes, lovely! So will you come?"

Julie pursed her lips and grinned, "Why not?"

"But your husband!" Joly suddenly exclaimed, "He'd be furious with me if you just disappeared –"

"Ah, nonsense. My husband wouldn't mind at all, he's been busy with work, and to be quite honest, he'd be happy if I went on a trip with you."

"And Musichetta." Joly added quickly before watching the smile on Julie's face vanish.

Taking a deep breath, the nurse grabbed a tray of food she had previously prepared and walked to Eponine and Grantaire's room.

The waif was busy pacing the room and the former drunk was fumbling with a bottle of wine.

"Grantaire – you're _drinking_!?" The nurse exclaimed, nearly dropping her plate of food, "Unless that's _Mademoiselle_ Eponine's which I would definitely have a number of things to say –"

"No! Oh heavens no," Eponine giggled, "The _drunk is back_." She chimed, "Makes him much more tolerable too - although he's still an idiot."

"Oh," Julie clicked her tongue, "I can't have him drinking _too_ much though."

She set the tray down on Eponine's bed and went to take the bottle away from Grantaire, who was cradling it like a child. After much begging, she freed his grip from it and threw it away. She straightened her dress and let out a long, breathy sigh.

Eponine narrowed her eyes then relaxed them, moving closer to the nurse.

"Julie?" She asked.

"Yes?"

"I wanted to thank you for the other day."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you stopped Marius from telling Enjolras I'm –"

"Pregnant?" The nurse batted her hand, "It was nothing. Just please, be a little more careful. We all have secrets, but I feared that yours may reach the person you least want it to quicker than you thought."

Eponine thought about it for several seconds before nodding, "You're right."

"So _she's_ right?" Grantaire muttered in the background, causing Eponine to shake her head and follow Julie out of the room.

"May I give you some advice though _Mademoiselle_?"

"Yes?"

"Go talk to him."

"Him?"

"You know very well who _him _is." Julie smiled, nodding once more before muttering something to herself and running to the kitchen.

Eponine took a deep breath in and marched upstairs, a steady hand on her stomach which had not churned for the whole day.

...

Enjolras was propped up in his chair again, reading a book. How typical of him. At least it was getting his mind off the battle that seemed to be fresh in his mind up until a few days ago. He seemed troubled though, judging by the frown lines near his mouth and the bags underneath his eyes, as though something was keeping him from sleeping at night, besides pain.

Eponine's fingers lingered by the door before tapping the wood beside it. Enjolras' head shot up and nodded the girl in, the shadow of a smile playing at his lips.

"Monsieur, I don't mean to bother you, but, would you happen to have a book I could borrow?"

Enjolras nodded his head, "Take anything you can handle."

He meant well with his words, but Eponine took them to heart, "I_ can_ read, you know."

"I never doubted it." His eyes did not come away from the pages of the book.

"I know, it's just – you said 'anything_ I_ can handle'."

Enjolras was annoyed, "_Mademoiselle_, I can assure you that was far from what I meant. You may take _anything_ you wish."

Eponine looked around the room for a book which interested her, but nothing seemed to catch her eye. Not '_Un guide complet_' or '_La Révolution Française: Une Histoire_' - absolutely nothing.

"What are you reading?"

"Hmm?" Enjolras flipped his book over and read the title, "Pregnancy."

Eponine's face fell and a smile snuck up on Enjolras', "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that – would you?"

Eponine found herself rendered speechless.

"_Mademoiselle_? Are you alright?" He took a deep breath and clasped his hands together, "You look ill, maybe even slightly bloated? I really do hope that it won't worsen, especially in the next nine months? Maybe more..."

Eponine shook her head and felt tears spring to her eyes.

"Now, I may be imagining things, dear _Mademoiselle, _as I have made mistakes in the past - big mistakes, but, I want to ask you something and I need a response."

Eponine was silent.

"Are you, or are you not with child?"

She was silent once again.

"Is, is that a yes or a no?" The young revolutionary asked, propping himself up on a crutch and moving towards her, "I am so curious as to know _who_ the father is."

An anger that caused Eponine to shake appeared on his face.

"Are you or are you NOT pregnant?" He shook, taken over completely by his own emotions.

He moved quickly towards the girl, sending her against the wall, looking up into his angry eyes with terror. Without thinking, she raised her hand and slapped the side of Enjolras' cheek, watching him fall over onto his bed and soothe his throbbing cheek.

They stayed in silence for a few moments, Enjolras awe-stricken by Eponine's actions, and Eponine terrified of what would come next.

"I am." She whispered, barely audible, but enough to make the boy listen.

"_Mademoiselle_," Enjolras began, but stopped when he noticed Eponine raising her hand to her stomach, "what are you doing?"

"It's moving." She whispered, mesmerized by the baby's tiny squirms.

Enjolras moved closer to her, tempted to reach out and feel what she was – but why would she? Why would she allow a man she's terrified of to touch _her_ baby.

"Am I the-" Enjolras coughed, embarrassed, "Am I the father?" He was quiet now, speaking in ways she had never heard him speak before.

Eponine's head shot up and met his eyes, his sad blue eyes, and nodded, "I'm so _sorry_."

Enjolras could feel the heat in his face beginning to burn, his eyes beginning to tear up, and his world beginning to fall apart.

_I am a father, _he repeated slowly in his mind, watching Eponine nearly quake with fear and sadness.

Taking a deep breath and shutting her eyes, she reached out and placed his hand on her stomach. Alarmed by her actions, but unable to break away from her grip, Enjolras sat, dumbfounded, feeling the tiny baby move underneath his palm.

A grin crept onto his face as it continued, causing Eponine to smile.

Once it ended, they did not exchange any words or glances - as though it had never happened.

Eponine turned on her heel and left, and Enjolras collapsed on his bed, consumed by his own bitter thoughts.


	14. The Confrontation

**A/N**:_ So, I'm really happy that you all liked my last chapter - Eponine finally came through! But alas, I must ask something else of you guys - to name this baby! I've gotten one suggestion so far and I'd love for you all to keep 'em coming. The name I'll be using for the boy/girl will be a name that I've been given by you guys! So make sure to drop one in the reviews! Thanks again :)_

**The Confrontation**

_Jardin du Luxemburg _was quite often occupied by _Madame_ and _Monsieur_ Pontmercy, just as it had been before they were married. He had thought of her a lark and she had thought if him a lovely admirer. It was a beautiful relationship, and it seemed impenetrable, incapable of becoming influenced or undertaken – but something was wrong.

After seeing Eponine with child, seeing Joly so _free_, and seeing Grantaire sober as could be – something didn't sit right with Marius.

Perhaps, that nothing was the way it used to be, perhaps it was his solitude– but something, something in his seemingly perfect life, was wrong.

It was another peaceful evening in the garden, the larks were out, Cosette was wearing her pastel bonnet with the lace sash and silk, tied loosely underneath her chin. The songs of the birds filled the air with quite music, and the gentle breeze that rolled through the air set Marius in the best mood he had been in for days despite the heaviness on his shoulders.

A series of questions continued to fly through his head. Why had Enjolras slept with Eponine? Why had Eponine agreed to it? How did Eponine not stay alive? Eponine, Eponine, Eponine… It was as if Cosette did not exist.

She still continued to fill his days with sunshine, she was irreplaceable and he would not waste a minute in the day away from her, and that was exactly the problem. Without Cosette, the darkness, Eponine and all of_ les amis_, would seep back into his head. When Cosette left with all the gladness in the world, he'd have his memories to eat away at him until nothing remained.

"Do you remember when we met?" Cosette asked, placing her hand on his and filling him with warmth.

"How could I forget?" His response was simple, but made her content.

She laid her head upon his chest and listened to him breathe for some time before saying, "We've been married for four months, and we've known each other since-"

"I saw you here in this park." He smiled, "But you seem so sad since then my dear... "

"Exactly," she smiled sadly, "I grew up with my father, who is a great man, but I saw how lonely he was and he saw how lonely I was. I don't want the same thing happening to you."

He was confused, "I'll never be lonely as long as you're with me."

She smiled, but this time, she was not as pleased, "No, that's not what I meant."

"Then -?"

"I want to have children."

Marius felt his jaw loosen a little and he broke eye contact with his wife.

"Marius, what's wrong? I didn't mean to be so abrupt but –"

"Why?"

"Why was I so abrupt?"

"No, why do you want to have children _now_?"

Even Cosette seemed a little confused at the question, furrowing her thin, golden eyebrows.

"I-" she looked up at him and grinned, her teeth showing through her rosy lips, "we'll be so lonely without children around the house."

"Don't lie," Marius snapped suddenly, they hadn't touched each other since they'd met, and now, all of a sudden, she wanted kids?

Cosette opened her mouth to protest, but her eye had caught a strange man eyeing Marius from behind a tree near the fountain.

"Marius," she whispered, "look behind you."

Marius pivoted in his seat and found himself staring back at an attractive, slightly terrifying looking boy around his own age with the darkest hair and reddest lips he'd ever seen. He resembled something straight out of a story, but he also was undeniably familiar.

"I don't feel safe." Cosette shivered.

"Neither do I darling, follow me," he took hold of Cosette's hand and ran out of the park, away from the man. His face was fresh in Marius' face, and Marius' in his.

...

The veins in Enjolras' arms nearly popped with the pressure he was putting on them trying to keep himself standing.

Grantaire nearly had tears in his eyes watching the man try to act like he was never mutilated by those bullets, yet, there was something else about him. A familiar raw anger, an accustomed refusal to show emotion… Whatever it was, Enjolras was never more like and more unlike himself in all the years they'd known each other.

Julie and Joly, along with Musichetta and Jeanette had set out for _Somme_ last night, worrying Eponine. What if the baby got hurt? What if _she_ got hurt? What if somebody broke in? Joly wouldn't be able to help them...

A million deranged thoughts flew through the girl's mind as she scrolled through her events with Enjolras the previous night. She couldn't think straight, she hadn't touched the bread and brie Julie had left for her before she left, and she most definitely could not face Enjolras again.

Courfeyrac had promised to visit the three towards the evening, but the hours until his arrival were many, and the only people in the house were all in the wrong mind set. None of them was on speaking terms with one another and neither one wanted anything to do with the others. The sole reason Grantaire had agreed to help Enjolras take a few steps and warm his muscles up again was because of that ounce of devotion lying within the man. That ounce of admiration from years of spending time near the hard working revolutionary. Grantaire and Enjolras had something before he had even laid eyes on Eponine, and they likely would for as long as he continued to know her.

"Eponine!?" Grantaire yelled suddenly, his voice echoing in the empty air.

"What?"

"He's walking!" He exclaimed.

"What!?"

"He's walking without the crutches! My God –"

"I'm coming!" Eponine yelled, blinded by a rush of excitement.

At the top of the winding mahogany stairs, stood Enjolras, pacing the hallway with a look of accomplishment and pride on his visage. He'd never smiled so wide in his entire time here…

Absent mindedly, Eponine grabbed a hold of Grantaire's hand and squeezed it. She didn't say a word, but it was enough for Grantaire to know how thankful she was for all he'd done for her. It wouldn't be much longer before he found out that she had told Enjolras the truth about her pregnancy at last.

Looking at Enjolras in awe now, Eponine tried to find a reason she had been so eager to watch his recovery, and, after refusing to admit it was because he would be fathering her child, finally reached an answer. Out of the entire group of students at the barricades, all those innocent, dedicated lives lost at the barricades – only five had come out living. Another recovery meant another life renewed. It meant that another piece of their past could finally, at last, be put to rest.

Enjolras stopped suddenly and turned his head towards the waif, breathing out angrily. Her face turned red as he moved towards her and her grip on Grantaire's hand tightened deliberately. The drunk slipped out of it and fled down the stairs, unwilling to hear them bicker. His footsteps carried down, down, down further until there was barely any sign that he was in the house.

"Why did you keep it from me so long?" Enjolras asked, his voice cracking slightly, something Eponine had also never seen, "You did everything you could to hide a big part of _my_ life from me. Why?"

Eponine fidgeted with her thumbs and clicked her tongue, "I was afraid."

_Of course_, he thought, _everyone is_.

"So you let this fear guide you to a point where you would rather grow old with a fatherless child than face his while you can? Is that it _Mademoiselle_?" He was losing his balance again.

Eponine gripped his shoulder and straightened his body before carrying on, "No, _Monsieur,_ but I let this fear guide me to believe that _you_ wouldn't care!" She felt her bottom lip quiver.

"What? Why on Earth would you think -"

"Look at yourself!" She stammered, pointing to his crutches, his bandages and the scars on his face, "Look what you've let your love for France do to you!"

Enjolras was at a loss for words, so flustered and frustrated he felt like collapsing.

"How could you ever love anything else but _Patria!?_" She screamed, throwing her hands above her head.

"How do you know about that!?"

"Marius told me..." She sniffled.

Enjolras smiled suddenly, a devious grin that sent shivers down Eponine's spine.

"And what about Marius? How could _you, _his very shadow, _ever _love anything else but him? He's moved on you know - so why can't _you_?"

Eponine fell to the floor then, weeping so deeply she could feel her body shake and tremble with sobs. How could he say that? She could feel a bond between her baby and her so deep that it could never match what she ever felt for Marius. However deeply she wished Marius would have been the father to her child, or that they had gotten married instead - this baby filled all the wounds he'd inflicted upon her.

Suddenly she came to a realization - the love for her baby could _never_ match what she felt for Marius.

"I _have_ moved on_ Monsieur_ Enjolras." She clicked her tongue, shaking the tears away from her eyes, "My baby is the only thing that holds a place in my heart now."

"Mine as well." He replied quickly, seeming much more saddened than he was originally.

Had she broke the man of marble?

"Very well then." Eponine nodded, threw her hair behind her back and fled down the stairs, a secure hand on her stomach. A series of hushed whispers caught her attention suddenly. Courfeyrac and Grantaire were seated by Joly's office, caught off guard by Eponine's entrance.

"Don't tell me you were eavesdropping?" She raised her eyebrow.

"How could we not!?" Grantaire spit before Courfeyrac had a chance to dismiss it.

"Listen," he began, "you two can't talk to one another that way!_ You are raising a child_."

"I know!" She exclaimed, throwing her face in her trembling hands, "I know."

"Then show some compassion!"

"I am!" Eponine moved towards him, "I will _always_ love my baby."

Courfeyrac shook his head, "But you two won't _ever_ love one another."

And with that, he led Grantaire out of the building and the soon to be parents were alone in the house, again on a mutual agreement of silence.


	15. Trouble

**A/N: **_Thanks for all the baby name votes, faves, reviews and follows! I also apologize if this chapter is a little confusing._

**Trouble**

It had been a solid week since Eponine's last conundrum with Enjolras. It had also been a week since Courfeyrac, Grantaire, Joly, and Julie had house had never been so quite in all the waif's days there, but it seldom made a difference to her with the company of her baby.

Her stomach was visible underneath her dress, and Enjolras would be caught staring at it whenever she passed by his room to wash up or take a bath. It was as if he didn't even care about the mother of this child but only the child itself, and it had brought Eponine to wonder what had been going through his mind when they spent the night with one another. There must've been something between them - or else he wouldn't bother going near her. What had happened since then?

On mornings where her thoughts were consumed by such things, Eponine would venture out, take walks through alleyways and up town, anywhere where she couldn't run into her father or sister. But escaping from her past only provoked more questions about her future.

Was Azelma still alive?

Was Gavroche?

No – it was impossible. Azelma had disappeared from a young age and Gavroche - well, she had considered him dead from day one. It was another part of her heart that was broken and tattered, but another part that she had learnt to numb and put away, for it threatened to tear her apart.

However, on this day, her thoughts and prayers for her siblings were put aside. She had decided to take a walk up to _Jardin du Luxemburg, _right passed his father's old inn – where she had first noticed she'd lost Marius to somebody else.

How she envied their love and how she wished she had caught his eye the same way Cosette had caught it…

Disregarding her own emotions, she soon made her way to the park, marveling at how the atmosphere changed due to the dark clouds hovering menacingly park was vaguely vacant, except for her and a few passerby's and beggars - probably a result of the rainy weather. Walking in the rain didn't bother her too much; she felt as though she was being cleansed of all her wrongs with each drop of water that poured over her body – and there was _much_ to be cleansed. Especially her night with Enjolras.

"EPONINE!?" A raspy voice called out suddenly, jolting Eponine into a stiffened position.

A handsome gentlemen with raven hair and cherry lips moved into her line of sight and knocked the air out of her chest.

"Montparnasse…?" Eponine's words came out in a saddened whisper.

What was he doing in the park? She could feel her heart race, and for the first time in her life, she wished that Enjolras was there beside her.

"Blimey! Ya'r alive?" He threw his head back and laughed "How've you been!? Thenardier's gonna lose it when he sees how alive you really are! Let me getta good look attchya!" He inspected every ounce of her body, marveling at it, then stopping. He raised a hand towards her stomach and then placed it over his mouth, "Ya'r PREGNANT!?"

"Shut up!" She punched him in the face and watched him cower, laughing to himself obliviously.

"Is it mine?" He raised his eyebrows, brushing off the pain he was feeling from the bruise she'd inflicted upon his cheek, "Tell me it's mine 'Ponine."

"I told you to shut your mouth 'Parnasse."

"Well, well, well," he raised an eyebrow and clicked his tongue, "you've become quite the slut…"

"I am not!" She differed, feeling a twinge of guilt.

"Then what? You just happened to get pregnant on an evening stroll?" The boy nearly fainted from the laughs racking his body, "Just you wait till ya'r father 'ears about this!"

"NO!" She screamed, shaken by the sound of her echoes throughout the parks and all the _rues _connecting it.

"What? You don't want him to know he's a _grandpere_?" He raised another inky eyebrow, "Are you hiding something 'Ponine?"

"No! No, I'm not." She frowned, the lines around her eyes appearing.

"Then why can't I tell ol' Thenardier?"

"Because I'll –" she began to search for the proper words, "I'll, er, I'll have to consult my husband first."

"Husband!?" The boy was laughing so hard now he could barely get the words out right, "Who would marry ya!?"

"You certainly had a keen interest!" She retaliated, "But I found someone better - and, and this baby is his!" She nodded contently.

"So, Thenardier can't have anything to do with ya now? I can't have anything to do with ya now?" He shook his head, "Is ya'r new husband so good – that ya'r willin' to leave us all behind for 'im?"

"Go home 'Parnasse." Eponine stuttered after another twinge of guilt rattled her mind. Was she really about to leave nearly every part of her past behind?

"What is it 'Ponine? Upset?" He snickered, "So who is this new 'usband of ya'rs? I'd love to meet 'im!"

"You can't!"

"Why not?" He pouted his scarlet lips, "Is he imaginary?"

"_Go home_ 'Parnasse."

"No, I don't think I want to just yet." He smiled again, "See, Thenardier said there's a prince on the 'eads of all those idiots at the barricades… you were one of them weren't you?"

Eponine fell silent.

"I'll take that as a yes." He chuckled menacingly and carried on, "Tell ya what? I'll leave – if you tell me where your friends are."

"What!?" Eponine could feel the sweat building on her brow, the fear rising in her chest – what was she to do?

"What's wrong 'Ponine?"

"Nothing!"

"Then talk." In one swift motion he pulled a knife from his pocket and held it to Eponine's bulging stomach, "Then _talk_."

Eponine was shaking, "They live on _Rue Chevrare_! A big – big building with b-bright y-yellow flowers hanging in the front!"

Montparnasse smiled and slit the front of her dress, exposing her undergarments after giving the shaking Eponine a lingering kiss on the lips.

"Merci beaucoup!" He called out, his words lingering in the dead air as he ran off into the distance, leaving Eponine's world to crumble beneath her.

What had she done? Exposed everyone's whereabouts when nobody, except the still recovering Enjolras, was home!?What was she to do now? Sit and watch her father and 'Parnasse rip his insides out? Turn him into the police? Rob the house?

She had to do something – _anything_!

Scrambling to her senses, she sped down the slippery streets as fast as she could, arriving at that big building with the yellow flowers in the front in less than five minutes. Throwing the door open she began calling for Enjolras.

"Are you home!? Are you alright!?"

The sound of heavy footsteps caused Eponine to slip and fall on her back near the door.

Enjolras' eyes widened and he moved to help her up swiftly, giving her a fearful look, "What happened to your dress!?"

"Get out of this house!" She yelled, completely racked with sobs.

"What!? What happened Eponine!?"

"Just get out! Go Enjolras!" She cried, holding onto his hand as they burst through the doors and ran down the road, down the connected _rue_, and further uptown. The farther they went, the farther they would be from Montparnasse and whatever terror he carried with him. The farther they would be from harm.

...

It didn't take ten minutes for them to catch sight of Courfeyrac's apartment and throw themselves at the door.

"COURFEYRAC!" Eponine screamed, banging on the door with her fists until it opened. She immediately fell to her knees with Enjolras close to tears behind her as their friend stood in awe.

"What happened!?" He cried, helping Eponine in after Enjolras.

"I've done something terrible!" She stammered, unable to find words to apologize for her crimes.

"What!? What is it!?" Enjolras exclaimed, still holding onto her fluttering hands. What had gotten into the waif?

"My father – he's going to kill us!"

"W – What!?" Courfeyrac shouted, causing Eponine to sink deeper into misery.

"I – I ran into 'Parnasse at the garden and he told me there's a price on our heads and that if I didn't tell him where you were he'd kill my baby so – so," another set of sobs sent Eponine into fit, "so I told him! They're on their way there!"

"Eponine what have you done!" Grantaire scorned, "Joly'll kill us before him!"

"Don't!" Enjolras warned suddenly, "She would have died if she didn't say anything! Is that what you wanted!?"

The room fell silent.

"Is the baby okay?" He asked, holding both of Eponine's hands within his own now. They were both shaking, but his eyes were only drawn to the baby, ignoring Eponine's sadness, her fear – just the baby.

"Yes…" Eponine whispered, pulling her hands from his, "but I guess that's all you care about."

"Of course that's all I care-" but he stopped himself when Courfeyrac shot him a glance, "Eponine, stop putting words in my mouth."

"I didn't put them there! Enjolras – you would have died if I didn't come and get you! Why can't you realize that I'm trying to care for you as well as the baby!"

Suddenly, a series of worried whispers stunned the group as their heads turned towards two people who had been listening in on their conversation the whole time.

"M- Marius?" Eponine stuttered, shocked to see that him and Cosette had been with them the entire time. She had been so consumed in her case that she hadn't let Courfeyrac warn her that he was in the same room as the arguing pair.

"Eponine, calm down…" Marius begged, walking over to her and placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder, "I'm sure Enjolras means well – it's not his fault you're with child now. He's doing all he can!" She began to feel a knot form in her throat and tears well up in her eyes.

"Eponine, your child is going to grow up in absolute devastation without a father or a mother around – I know." Cosette sighed longingly, "If you don't give Enjolras any credit before the babies born, the baby's going to grow old in devastation! I know you come from a broken family but you don't need to start one before it's already begun."

The impact of Cosette's words hit her as hard as it hit everybody else in the room. She had just offended everything Eponine had come from and all that she would be.

"No, Eponine, that's not what I me-"

"Would you please be quite, _Mademoiselle_." Enjolras snapped suddenly, startling Marius and his former shadow, "Eponine is the mother of _my_ child – and, I," he took a deep breath, detesting the words that were about to come out of his mouth, "I love her."

"What?" Marius spit, "You _love Eponine_?"

"More than _you_ ever have." The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly as he carried on, "So, as you two are _clearly_ happy with your own marriage, please leave mine and Eponine's happiness to us to handle in our very capable hands– especially when we're clearly in _danger_."

He smiled at them, took Eponine's hand and marched upstairs, "Good day!" He called down after shutting the doors to Courfeyrac's chambers.

Eponine could barely feel breath in her chest when Enjolras took the waif by the shoulders and shook her.

"Wake up Eponine!" He snapped his fingers, so weakened that breathing was becoming a struggle for him as well. A week after learning to walk again and he was already running for his life and breaking up fights.

"Why do you think I told you to stay away from Pontmercy?"

She met his eyes and shrugged.

"Look at what he's done to you!" He spun her to face a mirror.

She caught a glimpse of her swollen, red eyes and flinched.

"You nearly died – and all he cares about is how much of a better person you can be!"

"No, you're wrong!" But she knew she was lying.

"No, Mademoiselle, you need to _listen_. Did you not see what Marius was saying to you? What he allowed his wife to say to you?"

"So - you're saying Marius thinks I'm a bad person?" She sniffled.

"Eponine, _I_ already know you're a wonderful person, and I no, I _do not_ love you – but I have enough respect for you to know that I need to be there for you until this baby is born. Am I correct?"

She nodded.

"And I am going to be here till this baby is born, alright?"

"Alright." Eponine whispered, still shocked at how much could happen in a mere 2 hours.

"Good." He nodded, shook her hand and left the room, clearly letting the incidents of the day wipe away from his mind again, as though it had never happened.

She wasn't sure of what went on in that boys head, but one thing was for certain, the man of marble was beginning to crack.


	16. Capable

**A/N: **_I hope this chapter isn't too confusing, but it had to be done! Hope you enjoy :)_

**Capable**

Another two weeks passed, full of worry and anxiety.

Enjolras was beginning to show the smallest ounce of compassion towards Eponine – but mostly the baby. He still couldn't bear to be around the waif and had only pretended to in front of Pontmercy so their dignity wouldn't be torn to shreds.

Her love for Marius was equal to his love for Patria, so much that she had nearly died for him at the barricades. Only after how much sadness she had wallowed in after their spat, and how much Eponine had cried and cried because she had 'lost' her Marius, did Enjolras realize that.

Julie and Joly had finally come home, only to be found and stopped by Courfeyrac, then led back to his apartment where Eponine would eventually explain everything. With the pair came Jeanette and Musichetta as well, both exhausted and confused in the new environment.

From what Eponine observed, Jeanette was a tall girl with a thin head of strawberry blonde hair and light sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She wore her corset so tightly that Eponine marveled at how the girl was able to breathe - but she didn't dare question her.

Musichetta, on the other hand, was a rather petite girl with her raven hair cropped by her ear and full of ringlets. Her olive skin and green eyes made her look mysteriously beautiful.

She was seated next to Joly on the couch with Courfeyrac seated on a chair in front of them and across from Grantaire and Eponine. Enjolras was leaning against the entrance to the hallway, frowning at the scene and keeping his eyes glued to Eponine, who had scrunched her nose up and looked away from Joly and Musichetta cuddling, still in a haze from Marius' abrupt departure days ago.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and suddenly met Musichetta's, who had been fixated upon him for some time despite having her head rested on Joly's chest.

"I'll go bring some tea – does anybody want tea?" Courfeyrac asked, feeling a little uneasy as another period of eerie silence hung about the room.

"I'll have some dear." Julie chimed, exchanging a worried glance with Eponine, "May I have a word with you?"

She nodded, eager to get out of the room. The waif led Julie out of the room, past the kitchen and into the little crook underneath the wooden stairs.

"What's wrong?" Eponine asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Have you told him yet?"

She breathed and nodded, smiling, but only enough for herself to notice.

"Oh!" Julie nearly screamed, embracing Eponine and kissing her on both cheeks, "Thank heavens! It was about time!" More questions lingered on her lips though, and had Eponine noticed something stirring in the nurse's eyes. She would only ever look like that if something terrible had happened. What was she hiding?

"Is something wrong? I have time you know..."

Julie cocked her head up suddenly and grinned, dismissing her own sadness, "What!? Me, no, no, no… I just came back from a trip – I'm exhausted! Don't be bothered by the faces I make, they hardly mean a thing!" She giggled but stopped when Eponine refused to smile.

"Oh for God's sake_ Madame_ – is it Joly?"

Julie seemed petrified suddenly, "What on Earth are you talking about?"

"I know you're - um, attracted to him-"

"It doesn't matter how _I_ feel though, does it? He's very comfortable with his _girlfriend,_ and I shouldn't intercede."

"No, you shouldn't! You've got to stop this nonsense with Joly – you're married!"

"Yes," Julie sighed, shaking her head, "_married_."

Before Eponine could say another word, and a few at that, Courfeyrac had walked past them with a tray of tea, smiling at them suspiciously as he made his way into the living room.

The nurse took a deep breath, held her head up high and walked happily over to the room as well, with Eponine not to far behind her.

Was she absolutely mental? What would her husband say if he knew about her infatuation with the young doctor? What wold Musichetta do about another woman in his life. After all, Joly was the only man she had left in her life. The loss of Bossuet was enough - she didn't need to lose Joly as well.

Eponine knew the pain Musichetta would suffer from if the nurse ruined her relationship with Joly and she couldn't allow Julie, one of her closest friends, to destroy her dignity and the lives of a young couple at the hands of her silly little crush.

She froze as she stepped into the room and Musichetta's eyes met hers, a grin on her rosy lips. Did Eponine look like she knew something? Was that why Musichetta was smiling?

Her worry faded when she shifted her gaze to Enjolras and let out a lengthy sigh.

Enjolras was the first to get up after the silence settled a little longer, asking Eponine for a word in the hallway.

"What's wrong with you now?" She sighed.

"Get her out of this house." He begged, his cane, that Courfeyrac had so graciously loaned him, trembling in his right hand.

"Who?"

He rolled his blue eyes again, "Musichetta." He clenched his teeth and stuck out his jaw.

"Why? I thought you wouldn't mind being _admired_ for a while."

"No, it's not _that_," he shook his head dismissively, "You need to come clean to Joly and he won't listen to a thing I say until Musichetta's gone. He keeps wanting to go back home."

"I don't need to do anything, _Monsieur_."

"Oh yes you do _Mademoiselle_. What if Montparnasse breaks through the door right now? What's your excuse then?"

Eponine bit her tongue in frustration, marching into the living room and pushing Enjolras just enough to make him teeter.

"Eponine, how's the baby?" Musichetta asked suddenly, running up to her and helping the waif sit down.

Interrogation seemed to linger on Joly's lips as Eponine refused eye contact with him.

"Fine thanks." She smiled, "He's getting pretty big now – it's hard to sleep."

"It must be so exciting!" Musichetta cried, "Enjolras looks like a very capable father."

"Looks _capable_?" Eponine nearly chortled but stopped herself, "Yes, yes, I'm sure he is_ capable_."

"I thought so! Now, how did you two meet?" The room fell quiet again and Grantaire nearly choked on his brandy. His coughs were the only thing keeping the room from falling to absolute silence.

Still, Musichetta sat readily for Eponine's love story.

"Well, um," she looked over towards Enjolras who stepped forward, looking slightly bashful, but more ashamed than anything.

"I'd met her coming out of the Cafe one day, and, I decided to take her out for dinner one night and decided that she was the woman I wanted to, um," he exchanged a look with Joly, "marry. She's the woman I want to marry."

"Marry!?" Eponine stammered, all eyes in the room riveting towards her, "Oh, _yes. Of course_."

Enjolras coughed, "Nothing special, right 'Ponine?"

That was what Marius had called her before, "Right, Enjolras."

"Oh how lovely! When are you to be married?"

Grantaire laughed and Courfeyrac turned away when Enjolras dropped his cane. What had he done!?

"After the baby's born." Julie quickly answered, but Musichetta shook her head.

"Won't that be too much trouble for you both? A baby's a lot of responsibility! I say we opt for a winter wedding! Wouldn't that be absolutely darling? Right near Christmas! It would be so festive! Wouldn't it be fantastic Joly!?"

"Fantastic!" Joly repeated, a look of panic stirring in his eyes.

He knew how much Musichetta and her family valued marriage. He had been lucky Enjolras had mentioned that or he would have to, and then Eponine would surely despise him forever. But now – now they were positively doomed.

"Darling, have you seen my practice? Why don't we go back?" He suggested quickly.

"No!" Eponine screamed suddenly, making Courfeyrac drop his tea,"No! No! Don't go back!"

"What's the matter with you Eponine!?"

"I-I," She felt herself beginning to tremble suddenly, "I need to tell you all something!"

"Well what is it?" Joly stuttered, frightened by her demented behavior.

Without saying another word, Eponine fell to the floor and held her breath, hoping the other would believe she had fainted.

"Eponine!?" Julie yelled, running towards her limp body and propping it onto her shoulder, "Somebody get a cold towel!"

"Oh dear!" Musichetta gasped, holding onto Enjolras and Joly simultaneously. Enjolras, on the other hand, had not moved since Eponine screamed "No!"

Thoughts of marriage had consumed him, and one finite answer that he was positively unwilling to face had presented itself.

Surely they couldn't go on raising a child without the bond of marriage. The child would grow old, just as Cosette had said, torn between two families. It would become a broken family - just like the Thenardier's.

The only possible solution to their previously unsolvable dilemma had become as clear as day. By Christmas, and before this baby was born, Etienne Enjolras and Eponine Thenardier were to be married. He just had to find away to tell her that.


	17. Voleur

**Voleur  
(Thief)**

Grantaire set his bottle of wine down on the dinner table with a _thud_ and a slight splash of alcohol over the top. Courfeyrac rolled his eyes and moved his Queen forward.

"Checkmate."

"Unbelievable." Grantaire huffed, throwing his arms up in the air and sighing desolately, "I give up!"

"You wouldn't have to give up if you hadn't started in the first place." He yawned and checked the clock, "Honestly, who plays chess at midnight?"

"I do." Grantaire slurred, taking another chug of his wine.

"Hmm, why am I not surprised? You _are_ the same person who chugs a bottle of _Chablis_ every day…"

"It's in my nature." The boy responded coolly, taking another sip and keeping his eye on Courfeyrac.

The boys had been at the game for a solid hour and Grantaire wasn't showing any sign of exhaustion, which was beginning to worry his friend. He was already distressed from Eponine and Joly's bickering earlier on. Of course, he didn't exactly blame Joly for having the reaction he did when the waif told him the truth. He had lost everything, at least, he had assumed so until he could physically go back to his practice to see if Montparnasse had really destroyed his life or not.

Still, life wasn't positively terrible. Enjolras was beginning to lessen his need for a cane, which was another milestone for the last injured survivor of the barricades.

Eponine, on the other hand, had distanced herself from the grief Marius had brought her a week ago and moved onto the grief Musichetta's suggestion had brought her only days ago.

Even though she was completely used to fibbing, she couldn't help but feel an immense amount of guilt for allowing Enjolras to give Joly's girlfriend the impression that they were in love. She didn't have the slightest amount of compassion towards him but allowing Musichetta to assume so as a result of sheer embarrassment had completely ruined her relationship with the father of her child.

Enjolras had again transferred into a state of silence when Eponine neared him. It wasn't something she hadn't grown comfortable with, but it brought on a strange desire to go back in time and change the day she had told him the truth.

If Enjolras hadn't known about the baby, he wouldn't have been so keen on pretending he cared for her, and then she wouldn't have embarrassed herself in front Musichetta or, more importantly, Marius.

Life would be better if the man of marble didn't know about the waif's baby.

Then again, having Enjolras pretend to care for her made her lie to Montparnasse all the more believable.

If the young conman were to run into the young couple by chance, then it would seem like they were really a married couple. Especially with the pressure Musichetta had inconveniently added.

Whether she was faced with a blessing or a curse, Eponine's head was spinning a million miles a second trying to figure out which one – which might have led to her questionable decision late that night.

"You wouldn't happen to want some? Would you?" Grantaire asked, waving his _Chablis_ in Courfeyrac's nose annoyingly.

"Why would you say that?" He asked, batting it away.

"Because you keep _begging_ me to stop."

Courfeyrac sighed and turned his head for a moment, only to be shocked by the sight of Eponine flying down the stairs and right out the door, a measly coat wrapped around her slender shoulders.

He swiftly pushed himself out of the dining chair and ran to the door, throwing it open and running down a brief set of rain soaked stairs till he found himself out in the open.

"Eponine!" He called out miserably, clenching his fists together and calling her name again and again. Where had she gone and why had she chosen to do it now? Why hadn't she told anybody?

Running back inside with his jaw clenched so tightly a few teeth had nearly shattered, Courfeyrac began to yell at the top of his lungs. Soon, each member of the household began to make an appearance down the mahogany staircase.

"What's your problem!?" Joly grumbled, still groggy and holding a candle beside his face. Julie followed hastily behind him, holding her robe tightly in her freckled fingers.

"Eponine left." Grantaire answered, making multiple failed attempts to calm his quivering friend.

"What!?" Enjolras faltered, "Why didn't you go after her?"

"She disappeared!"

"She'll die if she's not careful!" Joly added, turning red and rubbing his eyes repeatedly, like he was trying to wake up from a dream.

"But she _will_ be careful." Julie reassured, looking slightly less disturbed.

Enjolras took a deep breath, "That's it, I'm going after her."

He limped forward, his robe hanging loosely on his previously mutilated shoulders. Throwing the door open, a gust of wind enveloped the room, and he stepped out.

"No! Enjolras stop!" Joly begged, running out beside him, "I'll go with you."

"Joly!" Julie begged, only to be held back by Courfeyrac.

"Come on _Madame_…" he murmured, grasping the nurse's hands and leading her into the living room, where Grantaire was staring pitifully out the window at Enjolras and Joly's departure. The nurse said a prayer in her head quickly and bid the running shadows of the boys farewell as they disappeared behind the rows of houses.

...

Enjolras could see his breath in clouds of vapor as he and Joly continued down the vacant streets.

It was approximately one thirty in the morning and there still wasn't any sign of Eponine, or any other form of civilization to be seen anywhere at all. A few days after he had decided to marry her and she was already acting up. Could he spend a lifetime with that kind of behaviour? He would have to be insane! Then again, if it weren't for his 'insane' behaviour on the night they'd spent together then he wouldn't have to even consider marrying her now.

_They couldn't be a better match_, he thought grimly.

"Stop!" Enjolras begged, a searing pain throbbing at his left side, "I'm going to throw up."

"Oh!" Joly exclaimed as the boy turned his head and spit up on the cobblestone, "I knew you should have stayed home! You're not well!"

"Oh shut up." Enjolras replied, wiping his mouth and smudging the residue on his pants, "She's with child – my child, and I made her a promise. I don't intend to break my promises Joly – not anymore."

Briefly reminded of the barricade, and slightly disgusted, Joly nodded and kept his mouth shut. He lent a hesitant hand to his friend and helped him limp along the _rues _until, finally, a dim, pulsing light caught their eye in the distance.

"A church." Enjolras breathed, "We've run out of places to look."

"What makes you say that?"

"Eponine does not go to church. I don't know much about her but I do know that." He nodded his head and nearly pivoted on his heel to turn away when a silhouette in the window caught his eye, "What's that?"

"A woman." Joly huffed, "Can't _possibly_ be Eponine – can it?"

Enjolras narrowed his beryl eyes and urged his friend forward, cussing against the cold wind until they had found themselves at the open doors and warmth of the church.

A gentle hymn of music embraced them as they moved stealthily into the lit hallways, keeping an eye open for the silhouette they had seen earlier.

Enjolras' heavy limps made the aging wooden floor beneath them moan in protest with every step. They passed each corridor until finally, they entered a small room, painted bright blue with streaks of silver and gold embellishing it's corners and edges.

A window facing the front of the church opened up, letting a bit of the rain and wind in and dragging the stark white curtains towards the lit candles on the other side. They made the room flicker with brightness through gasps of complete darkness.

Kneeling silently in front of the candles, both hands on her bloated stomach, was Eponine. The pair had come in hoping to find her, to take her home, but were absolutely speechless as they continued to watch the stray whisper words under her breath and take moments to sit and ponder her thoughts.

She had never looked so sincere in her life. If she simply meant to pray – why had she done it so abruptly? Why had she done in a way where les amis had feared for her very life?

"Eponine…?" Joly whispered, caught off guard by the way she turned her head towards them, eyes filled to the rim with tears, "Eponine – why?"

"I came to – um, pray."

"And you didn't bother to tell us?"

"No." Eponine wiped her nose with the back of her hand and continued to whisper some words. When she had finished, and the boys had come out of their initial shock, she elaborated, "I figured, if I can't _make _Montparnasse leave us alone, then I'll ask God to make him leave us alone." She smiled and turned her head back away from them.

"Eponine, do you want to be left alone?" Enjolras asked, a bit more doleful now that he had seen what Eponine's true intentions had been.  
"Yes please." She murmured, listening carefully as the boy's footsteps carried on out of the room and down the corridor. She had lied to them – as blatantly and pitifully as she possibly could have.

It was true, she had come to church to speak with God but not of protection from Montparnasse – but for forgiveness from what she had done _with_ Montparnasse. Joly's practice was now safe from harm, and as far as she was concerned, so were each of her friends and anybody else who had survived the barricades – but at an unforgivable price.

When Eponine had left, she had run back to her father's previous whereabouts, wandering aimlessly until she had found Montparnasse.

_"Ya weren't home for a while, were you 'Ponine?"  
_  
_ "No – I wasn't."  
_  
_ "Ya'r friends weren't home either, were they 'Ponine?"  
_  
_ "No – they weren't."  
_  
_ "So why are ya here now? Did you have somebody's head for me, 'cause that'd be delightful –"  
_  
_"I brought you money."  
_  
_ "What?" Montparnasse raised his eyebrows and circled around Eponine suspiciously. She was tense, following him with her eyes, trying not to break down crying or beat the life out of him.  
_  
_ "I brought you two-hundred and fifty francs 'Parnasse." She reached into her pocket wearily and pulled out a small pouch made of her previously worn out clothes._

Before Montparnasse could grab the money and make a run for it, something she had seen him to too many times to count, Eponine stuck the money into her dress and put out her finger.

_ "You only get the money – if you leave us alone."  
_  
_ "I don't like the sounda that 'cause you see – y'ar head is worth a lot more than two-hundred and fifty francs."  
_  
_ "What about one thousand." Eponine spat, lowering her eyes suddenly in shame._

She was stealing all this from Joly – how could she ever tell him or ask for forgiveness? He would surely notice the next time he went to the market and barely had enough money to pay for cheese.

_ "And ya got that all in there?"  
_  
_ "Not all of it," Eponine shook her head, "but I'll give it to you if you keep your filthy mouth shut and leave my friends alone." Every syllable of her sentence came out like a slap in the face; Montparnasse nodded. Reaching down Eponine's dress to grab the money and ducking when she nearly punched him in the mouth.  
_  
_ "Au revoir mon Cherie!" Montparnasse kissed Eponine's mouth again quickly and ran off into the bleak darkness.  
_  
_ "And – and not a word of this to anyone at all! Swear it!" She called out, hearing a faint, "I swear!" In return._

She had saved her friends lives – but destroyed her own.


	18. Target

**A/N:** _Sorry for the shortness of the chapter, and thank you for all the support as usual! Please keep reviewing, it really does help keep me going and is very rewarding as an author. Also thank you to some of the fan mail I've received on here and on tumblr recently! It means so much to me :)_

**Target**

In his youth, Wednesday's were designated to Enjolras' mother's infamous gatherings of friends from around the city.

It seemed rather petty to him, but as soon as he'd arrive home from school, the table was charmingly set with colourful pastries from _Ermitage_ and dainty teacups just waiting to be filled. Sooner or later, a group of women with their nose's stuck up a little too far in the air would walk in and rejoice a little unnecessarily with his mother.

It baffled him how the company of no more than three or four could sit and talk about absolutely pointless things for hours and hours on end, but he had nothing better to do, and it didn't take him very long to learn the way a female's mind supposedly worked.

It had only taken a few months of knowing Eponine for every belief he'd built up as a child to be thrown out the window and burned on the spot.

Eponine didn't fancy talking to other girl's her age as much as she preferred to speak to the boys who couldn't stand her. That particular habit of hers seemed to explain her fascination with Marius, but not much of her others tendencies.

For example, the waif didn't bother using napkins at the dinner table, but instead wiped whatever residue her previous meal had left on her mouth with her dress or the back of her hand. She also wouldn't hesitate to tell anybody who told her not to, to shut their mouth and mind their own business.

No, Eponine Thenardier was not like the other girls Enjolras had met in his lifetime, which were next to none, but sometimes he was beyond thankful for it.

After she had run away, and said her prayers, she had developed a healthy little ritual of taking Enjolras for short walks every evening after five.

The sun was still a little ways from completely setting and the sky was streaked with the warmest pinks and oranges. The weather in September was cool but Paris was notorious for its lingering summers so the harsh fall wind was bearable and rather enjoyable for the soon to be parents.

The day had brought the two to set out at six in the evening, after eating a meal which consisted of eggs and cheese, since Joly didn't have enough money to afford the usual salmon and asparagus.

Eponine hadn't touched a single thing.

"You know, if you don't eat much it'll affect the bab–"

"Oh save it." Eponine muttered, "I know what'll affect my baby and what won't and missing one meal out of the whole day won't do much."

He raised his eyebrows and huffed out longingly, "Whatever you say, _Mademoiselle_…"

Eponine smiled and nodded her head triumphantly. Enjolras would've normally shut her down completely but had recently refrained from doing so to prevent her from getting too horribly upset. In his mind, any emotion Eponine had directly affected the baby.

The boy stopped suddenly and gripped his left side, bending down slightly and placing his hand helplessly on his shaking knees. The waif quickly propped her hand underneath his arm and yanked him upright, seating him on a nearby bench.

"You know, if you stop lecturing me constantly, you'll cut your convulsions in half."

"Very funny." The boy sighed, moaning in protest to her yanks as she adjusted his position, "And when did you learn about convulsions, _Mademoiselle_?"

"Reading Joly's old medical reports." She shook her head, a lump forming in her throat as she let go of him, "I don't know why he won't submit them to an actual office already. They're made of brilliance."

"Tell me about it." Enjolras smiled and looked at the ground, taking a deep breath and leaning back.

"Don't you have anything?" She asked suddenly, cocking her head up.

"Anything?" He raised a golden eyebrow and Eponine turned away abruptly.

"A report? You know, something you'd done to show off."

"Mountains."

"Then why haven't you shown anybody yet?"

"Who would care?" He grinned nonchalantly and crossed his arms, "Who could I possibly send one of my reports to who wouldn't simply smirk and throw it in a – a fireplace."

Eponine bit her tongue, "Why would they do that, _Monsieur_?"

"Because I rebelled against a whole lot of those employers, now didn't I?" He shook his head miserably, "It's quite regrettable, to be honest, _Mademoiselle_, but I digress…"

Eponine nodded slowly, as if to fully take in all that he'd said. It had only taken a few seconds of his misery for her to pick up multiple things that had changed about the man in such a short amount of time.

His voice was gruffer, no longer as youthful and energetic as it was once capable of being. His stubble had grown in, and if the waif knew him at all, he wouldn't bother shaving it. His long, bright locks of shaggy hair had grown even longer, making his bright eyes with healing bruises underneath them to stand out. The man was broken, and the sight and sound of him made her heart break ever so slightly for him.

"You're a very - a very smart man, Enjolras." She stammered, turning pink.

He quickly turned his head towards her, as if to say thank you, but said absolutely nothing.

"I didn't think a smart man like you would ever be the father of my children." She shrugged, "But what can I do?"

He grinned, "I wouldn't particularly say that I'd imagined myself fathering your children, _Mademoiselle_, but life throws many things at a person and over time, you learn to deal with them." He shook his head, "And to be fair, from what you've shown me, you'd make an excellent mother. With a few things to work out..."

"Thank you, _Monsieur_." She chuckled under her breath, ignoring his last comment.

And the silence they had grown so used to seeped back between the two, leaving Enjolras with only one thought in his head. All he needed was one more conversation like this one, to make some money for the ring and he would propose.

...

Paris was a city some called home, and some wished and hoped that they'd someday have a chance to go visit.

Paris was also a place that was condemned to unimaginable poverty for what felt like an eternity. The amount of people who would very likely kill another person in order to gain some money to feed themselves with had rocketed after the barricades, and one of those people was Montparnasse.

He would hide away in nooks and crannies and hovels to stay away from the police when they were scavenging the city, and of course to spy on anybody who made him feel threatened.

Luckily, after hiding away from a series of national guardsman who were hot on his tail, he had spotted exactly who he'd been looking for – and her new husband.

Normally, it wouldn't have been much trouble for 'Parnasse to sneak up on the girl and scare life out of her, but it was different this time.

Beside her sat a man who looked positively capable of ripping the boy to pieces with a wave of his very capable hands. He was a man who's visage gave away the look of a man who couldn't bear to listen to a boy's nonsense; he looked far to intelligent for anything Montparnasse could try and trick him into.

As he stood, solid as a rock, the young conman's eyes scanned him, trying to find a flaw, something he could use against the man. And he did, for as Enjolras stood to walk Eponine across the street, he limped with a sturdy cane in his right hand.

What a wonderful sign, he could make his attack.


	19. Oublie

**A/N:** _Thanks for over 100 follows! Sorry for the wait and don't forget to review please!_

**Oublié**  
**(Forgotten)**

"What about Philippe?" Enjolras asked, smiling indifferently as the girl shook her head.

"I don't like that name." She scrunched up her nose and stuck out her tongue.

"Give me one reason why." He met her eyes sternly, "My great grandfather was named Philippe and he was an absolutely marvelous man."

"I'm sure he was." She sighed, "But, Philippe sounds too – bourgeois?" She knew very well that that world plucked Enjolras' very heart strings. The man was ridded of the thought of naming their son Philippe.

"What about Juliette." Eponine grinned from ear to ear, "The play is supposed to be marvelous."

"Yes, but she dies." Enjolras shook his head, "A shame to name one's daughter after cursed youth, don't you think?"

"Very well." Eponine huffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand, a habit that was beginning to drive Enjolras up the wall.

The autumn air was much quieter now, and much more relaxing than when the two had arrived in the morning. Eponine was persistent about leaving, but Enjolras wanted to stay. The longer he could spend time with the waif, the more she would like him – hopefully.

"What about Christine? Or Francois – if it's a boy." Eponine suggested once more, followed by a shake of the man's golden locks.

"If Philippe is too bourgeois, then so it Francois. Besides, there was an old fool who sold Baguettes on Rue de Champ in my youth named Francois."

"And your thoughts on Christine, _Monsieur_?"

"Good, but still. I can't imagine having a daughter named Christine…"

Eponine nodded, agreeing with his words.

"_Mademoiselle,_" the man cleared his throat and met her eyes once more, "if it is a boy – would you like to name it after your brother?"

A knot formed in Eponine's throat and she fell silent. Enjolras bit his tongue in regret. He had ruined the evening.

"No." She shook her head, turning a way for a moment to compose herself, "it's not necessary. Gav – um, _he_ wouldn't like that."

The man nodded and took in the emotions Eponine had succumbed to in such a short amount of time. Her eyes fell and then lit up again with wipe of her tears, her grin reappeared as she straightened her spine, and her visage opened up as she placed her long inky hair behind her ears.

"I like Henri." Eponine offered in low tones, causing Enjolras to lean in, "He liked the name a lot."

It was true. The waif had grown older watching the boy sleep and play with a soft plush bunny the colour of winter snow that he had named Henri. It was strange to watch his brother connect with a piece of fabric so dearly, but he did grow out of it eventually, moving onto causing havoc with her and Azelma and finding his own friends. Henri disappeared to a location still unknown to her, but she knew her brother would've been a happy uncle if his nephew was named after one of his most prized possessions.

The revolutionary nodded slowly and smiled, "If it's a boy – we'll name him Henri. Deal?"

"And if it's a girl?" She raised an eyebrow, causing him to smile.

"I like Emmeline." He smiled, "It was my mother's favourite name. She would've named any sister's I could've had Emmeline."

"Then Emmeline it is." She beamed, "Deal?" She stuck out her right and hand and gripped the man's when he extended it.

"What a_ lovely_ exchange!" A cackling voice chimed suddenly, shattering the mood and shocking Eponine, whose jittery hands found themselves gripping her baby.

"Who are you!?" Enjolras shouted, feeling the heat rising in his face, like he had been expecting someone the whole time.

Before him stood a tall, lanky looking man with cherry coloured lips and dark eyes to match his raven hair falling over his face. The boy snatched Enjolras' cane with his left hand and swung it around and around carelessly. Enjolras stood to his feet, quaking with bitter anger.

Eponine's hands quickly found Enjolras' this time, squeezing them within her own gingerly.

"What do you want now, 'Parnasse?"

"You know exactly what I want." He grinned so deviously it made the beating of Eponine's heart quicken, "You're father knows ya'r alive, and he wants not only you," he rolled his tongue inside of his mouth a bit and smirked, "but him."

"What does he want with me?"

Montparnasse raised an eyebrow and exchanged a look of confusion with the waif, "Where's ya'r ring, dearest 'Ponine?"

"Excuse me?" She hissed, shivering slightly and tightening her grip on Enjolras.

"I've meant to ask you… ya'r never wearin' it after all." He frowned, "What kinda man doesn't give his own wife a ring to wear? Hm?"  
Enjolras' eyes widened in confusion and hurt, "What's he talking about?"

Montparnasse suddenly covered his mouth in false alarm, "You mean… you don't know ya'r married to Eponine?"

Enjolras turned to the waif in disarray and sadness, "You've been hiding this from me? When did you two even -"

"I suppose he doesn't know what you've managed to do to me in the past week as well?" He interrupted, beggining to turn red, a morbid sneer appearing on his seemingly angelic face, "Ya'r _wife _gave me one thousand francs, _Monsieur_."

Eponine froze, tears welling up in her eyes.

"But do ya know what else she didf?" He began to shake so violently that Eponine backed away from him, "SHE STOLE IT ALL BACK!"

With a quick couple of steps he had Eponine backed up against a tree, Enjolras clawing and pulling at Montparnasse as he choked her.  
"I'm not an idiot! How _dare_ you treat me like one!"

"LET HER GO!" Enjolras screamed, finally plying him off her and watching Eponine sink to the ground, cupping her throat and wheezing heavily.

"And you –" Montparnasse yelled, "GIVE ME THAT MONEY BACK!"

Enjolras' eyes widened as he pulled out a knife and twirled it around casually in his fingers.

"You either return the money I needed to eat – or she gets it." He ran to Eponine and pointed the knife not at her, but at the baby. Enjolras ran to the conman, ripped the knife out of his hands before he could come to his senses and stab the waif, and threw it to the other side of the park.

"Don't touch my baby." He stressed through clenched teeth, punching Montparnasse in the mouth until blood poured out of his teeth, tainting every word he said after that a gruesome red.

"Silly man." With a quick turn of the cane he had robbed from Enjolras, he kicked Enjolras on his wounds and broke the cane atop his head.

Running into the distance, a hand cupped under his bleeding mouth, he left the soon-to-be parents battered and broken in the empty park.  
Eponine wiped a few angry tears from her eyes and propped herself onto her hands and knees. Crawling slowly and weakly, she made her way to where Enjolras was lying.

His golden tufts of hair were again matted with blood, his back hunched over and his lively eyes shut dismally. The barricades flashed before Eponine's eyes once again and she nearly fell over.

"_Monsieur_?" She nudged him, feeling her limp fingers graze across his shoulders, his chest, and finally up to his face, "_Monsieur_!?" She shook him feverishly, hoping that he was still alive. That she would not have to tell the others he was murdered because of her.

"ENJOLRAS!" She screamed finally, slapping his face and weeping so loudly that her sobs echoed through the vacant streets. Throwing herself over the body, crying and shaking in the bitter wind that surrounded them.

...

The room around her lit up so suddenly that Eponine had to take a few long moments to blink and rub her eyes for adjustment. The faces hovering over hers appeared one by one, throwing her off guard. There was Joly, first, then _Madame _Julie, followed by Grantaire and then Courfeyrac.

"Eponine?" Joly's voice came in an echo, but still full of urgency, "Eponine?"

Julie snapped her fingers in the waif's ears, waiting to see if she would twitch or react to the sound. She did.

"Is she awake?" Grantaire voice came out anxious and shaky.

"She's awake." Joly reassured, grabbing a dampened cloth and patting it on her head.

"Is _he_ awake?" Grantaire asked.

No body spoke. Who was _he_? The last thing Eponine remembered was feeling lightheaded from all her crying. But why was she crying?

And then it came to her in a shattered memory. Montparnasse had attacked Enjolras, and when he hadn't woken up…

"Where is he?" She sputtered suddenly, sitting up and feeling her vision blur.

The young doctor was suddenly rendered speechless, looking behind him to the bed Enjolras lay in and back to Eponine several times.

"Where is Enjolras?" Her eye caught the bed before she asked the question. She thought he had died. The guilt had nearly killed her.

"He's asleep." Julie replied, putting her hand reassuringly on Eponine's. She cocked her head towards the nurse abruptly and took a deep breath, "I'm so glad you're alright."

"How did we get here…?"

Courfeyrac chuckled sadly, "You mean you don't remember?"

"Hardly." She frowned, "Was I supposed to?"

"Well… I assumed so, yes." Joly interrupted, "You were fully conscious the whole time."

"What?" She shook her head, "I don't remember anything."

"It's understandable," he sighed, scratching his head, "you suffered a bit of bruising on the back of your neck, near your cerebellum. And of course, you fell asleep for quite a bit after we found you both in the park…"

"How long?"

Joly's eyes widened a bit then fell, "Two days, that's why we were concerned."

"And you called that falling asleep!?" She swung her legs over the side of her bed and met Joly's eyes, "And he's been unconscious since then?"  
"Yes but –"

"What about my baby?" The tone of her voice suddenly changed from steady to panicked. Enjolras was alive, so was she… but the baby.

"I've monitored its movement, Eponine, and I assure you, your baby is more than alright."

Her eyes lit up, but before she could ask anything more, a groaning in the background caught all their attention.

Enjolras was moving.

Eponine was the first to hop out of bed barefoot, and run to the edge of the bed he lay in.

A single candle was lit beside him, defining every bead of sweat on his forehead dismally. Joly observed him with steady eyes, but even he couldn't hide his blatant worry.

The man shifted in his sheets, groaning with every movement in a way that made Eponine cringe. Grantaire held onto the waif as she gripped his hand, shutting her eyes and praying that the father of her child would be alright.

With a final groan, the man's eyes fluttered open, weak and disoriented.

Eponine let out a sigh of relief and Courfeyrac clasped his hands over his mouth. Julie stared nervously as Joly placed a damp cloth over his forehead and snapped his fingers in both the man's ears. He seemed responsive.

"Enjolras, can you hear us?" Joly asked, watching as the man furrowed his eyebrows and rubbed his eyes.

"He's just dizzy." Eponine reassured, recalling how she had felt only moments ago, "Enjolras, we're okay now."

He swallowed briefly and turned to face the waif, "What?"

"They found us after Montparnasse attacked – we're okay now." Tears began to fill her eyes.

"_Mademoiselle_, please, do not cry over me."

Eponine was puzzled, "But, you nearly died."

He shook his head, "Really?"

"Yes!" Eponine shook her head, "Don't you remember? He knocked you over the head with your cane after you protected our baby…"  
His eyes widened, perplexed.

"Our baby?"

"Yes!" Eponine called out, gripping Grantaire's hand so tightly he was beginning to feel it go numb.

"Well, that's impossible."

"What?" She could feel herself getting nauseous. Did he hate her so much he had forced her out of his mind?

"I can assure you that's not my baby."

"Why!?"

"Simply because I don't know you. Any of you, to be precise."


	20. Nouveau

**Nouveau  
(New)**

"Amnesia." He muttered, snapping his fingers together, the open book, titled Afflictions of the Mind, a few inches from his face.

Grantaire's head shot up from his card game in confusion.

Courfeyrac set his aces down with a sneeze, "What on Earth is that?"

The young doctor shuddered in disgust, sighed and found the paragraph with his finger, "The patient has suffered significant damage to the skull, resulting in partial memory loss for a prolonged amount of time."

"Prolonged?" Courfeyrac raised an inky eyebrow, "How long?"

Joly read on, "The loss of memory will last for anywhere between several days or several months. In some cases, it could last –"  
The doctor stopped, biting back his tongue and swallowing the knot that had formed abruptly in his throat.

"What is it now?" Grantaire complained, "Read the last bit."

Joly took a deep breath, "In some cases, it could last for the rest of the patient's life."

There was a moment of silence.

"What!?" Courfeyrac stammered, "What do you mean?"

"_I_ don't mean it – it's in the book!" Joly differed, rubbing his temples in frustration. He wasn't sure what he meant at this point.

"So, this - this _version _of Enjolras could essentially last _forever_." Grantaire threw his hands up and looked bitterly over at the man of marble, who was seated by the stairwell reading up on the French government.

"At least he's got his political obsessions intact," he huffed, "because not only could we be stuck with this _thing_ forever, but we're going to have a lot of fun trying to retell him that he'll be a father in five months."

The fact hit Joly like a ton of bricks. Enjolras was still under the impression that he didn't know any of them, which meant Eponine was just a pregnant woman he had encountered after the accident…

Flipping through pages of his book feverishly, he landed his finger one a page and thumbed through the different sections until he landed on the one he wanted.

"Amnesia, caused by traumatic injury to the head, can cause the loss of memory to extend as far back as before the date of the accident."  
"So he should remember everything but the accident?" Courfeyrac asked, shifting in his seat.

Joly scratched his stubble, "But that's what I don't quite understand…" he peered over the corner at Enjolras and shut the door to the living room, "He's not remembering _anything_."

And he was right. Obviously Enjolras didn't remember Eponine or any of his old friends, but he also didn't remember what his first name, Etienne, was. He forgot his age, twenty-five, and where he even was, Courfeyrac's apartment. It was as if he was a completely different person…

"You don't think it'll last forever, do you?" Eponine asked suddenly, pushing the door open and shutting it behind her gingerly.

There was no way she could manage to convince him that they had spent a night together now, he could barely accept the fact without the memory loss.

"What do you care?" Grantaire snapped, taking a swig of brandy.

"Are you sober again? You don't sound like yourself…" She muttered, brushing off his comment, "Memory loss can't last _forever_." She looked around the room frightfully, "Can it?"

Joly shook his head, then nodded. Eponine cocked her head in confusion.

"You don't know… do you?" She sighed and flung her hands over her mouth, dragging them down the sides of her face in irritation, "I can't get him to remember the baby."

"Yes you can." Grantaire smirked.

"Oh yeah? What is it?"

"Speak to him. Start anew."

"_Start anew_?" Eponine chortled, "I barely wanted to start at all!"

She furrowed her dark eyebrows and began to pace furiously, stopping suddenly and taking a deep breath. If Enjolras forgot about the baby, Montparnasse wanted her head, and Marius despised her in every possible sense, then she didn't have anybody...

"So you say," she placed a finger on her cheek, "that I should just speak to him?"

Grantaire nodded, "You haven't spoken in days and you're expecting him to remember who you are without any communication?"

Courfeyrac raised his eyebrows and pondered over the logic of his sentence.

"But I'm the mother of his _child_."

"Be what you may, you can't expect him to make a special acceptance for you. This is a neurological problem, _Mademoiselle_; it's not up to him." Joly retorted, still seemingly deep in thought.

"Fine then." She huffed, leaving the room.

...

Enjolras sat leaning against the stairwell, still nose deep in the book, just as he used to do.

It reminded Eponine of the days she would stalk Marius and watch him observe the man's behaviour from afar, wary of bothering him or disrupting his work. Enjolras spent days in _Musain_ or _Corinth_ just studying, his golden eyebrows drawn together in focus, his beryl eyes following each word with intensity, just like now.

In fact, he didn't know who she was then and he didn't know now either. She had literally traveled back in time with him. Perhaps it was more of a blessing than a curse.

She approached with caution. If he truly was his old self, he wouldn't be too keen on stopping his read to chat with the waif.

"_Mademoiselle_?"

She seemed caught off guard, "Um – yes, _Monsieur_?"

"Did you need something?" He seemed genuinely concerned.

She nodded, "I was wondering if you had a book I could borrow?"

He seemed puzzled, "You'd be best to ask Courfeyrac, no?"

How foolish of her, he had borrowed the book from Courfeyrac's library.

"I apologize," she began, hoping to strike up a conversation, "it's just, the further I get into pregnancy-"

"Oh, yes," he nodded his head; "you'd like to educate yourself on the matter?"

"Yes." She smiled, "I'd like to prepare myself. So would my husband."

"Oh, Monsieur Grantaire?"

Eponine stuck out her tongue in disbelief, "No!"

"I apologiz-"

"No, it's not your fault…"

"Is it Monsieur Courfeyrac, or…?"

She shook her head, "My husband died shortly after I became pregnant."

She was good at lying. Years of running off without her parent's consent and sneaking out of meeting up with Montparnasse had given her plenty of practice.

"So you're a widow?"

She nodded.

"You're quite young…" He sighed, "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Me too." She muttered, turning her back to walk away.

"_Mademoiselle_… if you ever need to speak to somebody, feel free to talk to me." He left her off with a grin and a sinking feeling in her heart.

He sounded so genuine, so _kind hearted_ - not that _Monsieur _Enjolras wasn't. The man of marble had complimented her previously on the day of the accident, but it didn't sound as though he had meant it. It only sounded as though he had felt obligated to return what Eponine had said about him earlier on.

This _version_ of him sounded too sincere; it felt as though a stake had been plunged into the waif's heart. Would she have to grow accustomed to him? Forget who he used to be and act as though that never existed? If that was the only route to take then telling him that she was pregnant with his child would be prove to be all the more difficult than it had been the first time.

...

Joly was seated at the kitchen table with Julie by his side, resting her head on his chest. Courfeyrac had gone out with Grantaire to buy some groceries from the market and Eponine was preoccupied with his current 'patient'. As far as he was concerned, nobody could catch them together.

"Do you think she made any progress?" Julie asked, wrapping her left arm around his waist.

Joly shrugged, he had grown tired and concerned about the matter, "I hope so, but it's unlikely."

"Why?"

"Well, normally, he should be able to remember bits and pieces of his past, things that have stuck with him throughout the years regardless of what they are. It could range from his fifth birthday to his twenty fifth. What concerns me is that he's not remembering _any_ of that. The most he should be having difficulty with is either remembering where he is, or who he is, or who we are – not all of it at once…

"I believed that Eponine wasn't going to make any progress with him because he's not himself." He drew his eyebrows together in anxiety, something he did quite often. Julie placed a kiss on his cheek and he turned to meet her lips.

They lingered for a moment before he drew apart and breathed out longingly, "Everything's a mess…"

"If you believe it is, then it will be." She grinned dolefully and sat upright, straightening out her apron, "I better begin cooking."

Joly sighed and pondered over her words, rubbing his damp forehead with a jittery hand, slowly leaving his spot and making his way to the winding staircase.

He found that Enjolras' spot was empty but Eponine was pacing back and forth in bitter irritation. She ran her fingers through her matted hair and kept them on top of her head.

"What's wrong _Mademoiselle_?"

Eponine raised her head up and rolled her eyes, making Joly huff and grab the waif by the shoulders.

"What? Did he do something to offend y-"

"No, no…" She shook her head, "It's nothing."

Joly raised an eyebrow, "I'm not an idiot."

"I know." She shrugged, "It's just – he's very _confusing_." She took a seat on the first step of the staircase and crossed her arms. Joly kneeled beside her.

"It's very difficult," she took a lengthy breath, "to get used to him."

The doctor smiled at the ground, "I know."

"But-" she shook her head, tousling her inky hair, "he's going to change everything. I just know it."

"Don't say that – we can still work with him until he gets better. Just treat him as though he's another person."

"He _is _another person." She cried, throwing her face in her hands, "I cannot imagine how to tell him that in a few months he'll be a father."

"Unless he sees something that triggers his memory again…" Joly seemed to be having an epiphany, scratching his stubble and snapping his fingers together a few very quick paced times.

Eponine leaned against the stairs railing, "What do you mean?"

The doctor sounded more as though he were speaking to himself than to her, "The signs of a healthy recovery should involve the patient recalling key things about his past, but if Enjolras is having difficulty with that, then we need to provoke those memories."

"So, you're telling me we should recreate the barricades and have him go through that all over again?"

"No!" Joly chuckled darkly a bit, "Good heavens no! And don't you go talking about that to him or _anyone."_

Eponine nodded briskly at the sudden severity of his voice and shook her head, "Then what do you suggest? There isn't much in this man's life besides politics to recall."

Joly seemed to ponder over it for a bit then shook his head, "What about the night you spent together?"

He was so blatant about it that it managed to send Eponine into brief hysterics.

"What!?" She laughed and then gripped her side, "That's preposterous."

"But is it?" He turned away from her, as though to confirm his theory in private before revealing it to her, "The reason he acts so hostile about your pregnancy with or without amnesia is because psychologically, he's trying to forget that it ever happened. Just like you."

Eponine furrowed her dark eyebrows and blew some air inside her mouth, "So you want me to – sleep with him? Like a whore."

"No!" Joly was frustrated now, "Why can't you understand that you have to either recreate the barricades, go find Montparnasse, or do as I tell you?" He paced for a bit then stood directly in front of Eponine, speaking quietly and sternly, "You need to romance him. Make _this_ version of Enjolras remember something that was still fresh in _our _Enjolras' mind the day of the accident."

"Alright."

"Epo- alright?"

"I'll do it." She threw her hands up in the air, "If it'll get him back."

"And it will."

"We'll see." She huffed, turning on her heel and masking her tears.


	21. Surprise

**A/N:** _Sorry for taking so long to update but my school year is a little bit heavy this year so... -.- Anyways, I hope you all like where the story is going and please, please review. Your lovely feedback helps me decipher what I should write about next and essentially update quicker, so review! Thank_ you!

**Surprise  
**

He ran his fingers over the cut on his lip, right eyebrow, and cheekbone, wincing when a sharp pain shot through the scab.

"Ya'r a bloody idiot." Thenardier snapped, still bitter with irritation.

Only weeks ago, Montparnasse had been given a large sum of money, not bothering to reveal who the donor was or why the money had been given to him. The previous week, the money had been taken in the dead of night and the young conman had disappeared with it, not bothering to return without bruises and cuts, not bothering to mention who had given them to him or why.

"I didn't do this to myself ya know." He rolled his eyes, "So I'd appreciate it if ya'd gimme a break."

The old villain sat by the fire, sharpening a piece of jagged wood with a ragged stone he'd found near the Seine. Anger and severe annoyance boiled within him.

Montparnasse fidgeted with his fingers, anxiety building up within him, "So mind ya'r business."

Thenardier nodded slowly, not bothering to pay too much attention to the boy. Sooner or later, he'd be gone for good.

...

Enjolras sat across from Eponine, sipping his tea and watching the girl as she gazed out the window hotly.

"Is there something I can get for you _Mademoiselle_?" Julie asked through clenched teeth.

Joly had requested her to watch Eponine specifically and make sure she was following through with their plans.

Eponine, on the other hand, had made sure to avoid the possibility of 'romancing' him as long as possible. If Marius' relationship with Cosette fell apart, then she would still stand a chance with him. If Enjolras never healed and fell in love with her, although highly unlikely, it would destroy any chance she had left with Marius.

"No." She smiled nonchalantly.

Julie smiled back mockingly and flicked the girl on the neck as she moved past them with a tray of tea in one hand and a thin crocheted bag in her other.

Enjolras seemed oblivious to the moment, situated on his book and his tea and nothing else. Especially not the waif.

It would take too much effort to avert his attention away – too much for her liking anyways. Taking a deep breath and holding it inside her, Eponine left her seat and moved towards the exit of the house, wary of whether or not to risk meeting Montparnasse again.

Their last meeting had left her with frequent, vivid nightmares that woke her with a jolt and kept her pondering over them the rest of the never ending night.

Just last night she had dreamt that Montparnasse had found her, kissed her on the mouth like he always so blatantly did, and then – a searing pain shot through her body, knocking the breath out of her, numbing her senses, twisting the world around her to a point where it crumbled away beneath her. Then she saw herself, lying on the cold floor beneath his feet, blood forming a gruesome crimson pool around them both as she lay gasping for air. The boy seemed conflicted, calling out for help, trembling veraciously, but the he stopped. In the blink of an eye, the boy turned into a man – Eponine's father, laughing and grinning slyly as his daughter took her final, struggling breaths.

It had caused her to revaluate every relationship she had formed in her entire lifetime. It was a dream, but it was also the reason for one of the worst feelings Eponine had ever encountered in her life. She, and her baby, had been violently murdered by one of her once closest friends and her father. Since she had almost met that fate, she could never bear to face them again. But if she-

"Eponine?" A voice called out suddenly, rapping on the door quietly, but persistently, "Eponine?"

"Yes!" She pulled it open to find a perplexed Marius standing with his hand pushing back his hair, "I have news!"

"M-Marius…?" Dazed and confused, she watched the man run into the house, stop midway through the hallway and share a glance with her.  
"Where is everybody?"

"Out and about… Joly's upstairs…" She shook her head then pointed a trembling finger at him, "Why – Why are you here again?"

"I have some news." He grinned, turning pink in the cheeks. Eponine's heart melt.

"Well – what is it?"

Marius lit up, something she only saw him do when he became infatuated with Cosette…

"Cosette's, er, Cosette's pregnant."

...

When the world reconnected itself, when the black haze that had formed around Eponine's vision finally dissolved into dusky light, she reviewed what she had heard in her bustling mind.

_She _was with _child_. Marius couldn't possibly care what Eponine and her baby needed because now, he would have a baby of his own.

The haze returned, clouding her already fragile vision, causing her to take deep, heaving breaths, as if she would soon run out of them.

"Eponine!?" Marius ran to her, holding her underneath the arms as she fell to the floor, disoriented and heart broken, "Joly! Joly! Help us!"

...

Enjolras stood in the kitchen, caught off guard by the noise. What had happened so immediately?

"Is everything alright?" He ran swiftly from the kitchen to the main corridor, taken off guard by what he saw. The poor pregnant girl was half fallen on the floor with a strange man barely managing to keep her from falling.

"Eponine! Eponine wake up!" He begged, pulling her higher up.

"Excuse me!" Enjolras called, running up to him and taking the waif from her arms, "Get out."

"Enjolras…?"

"Leave."

"It's Marius you bloody idiot."

"I don't care who you are, get out."

"Look, I know you're upset about the last time but –"

"_Monsieu_r, leave or so help me I'll-"

"Good day." Marius swallowed what seemed like a lump in his throat and left the house with the thud of the door.

Eponine lay limply in the man's arms, whimpering gently but pale as a ghost and shivering like a leaf in the wind. Hoisting her up, Enjolras moved her to the living room, laying her on the sofa and retrieving a wet cloth for her forehead.

"_Mademoiselle_, wake up." He begged, calling for Joly soon after, until he had confirmed that the young doctor and his nurse weren't home.

What was he to do? What if she fell into a state of dire need for professional medical care? He couldn't do much.

"_Mademoiselle_, please." He shook her gently and managed to get a response. The waif's eyes fluttered and she shifted her position.

"Wake up. Wake up, _Mademoiselle_." He prayed, finally watching the waif sit up in shock, panting and gripping Monsieur Enjolras' hand securely.

"_Mademoiselle_?"

She released her grip from his hand, "Where is he?"

"That man? He left." He looked around, "Are you alright?"

"He's gone…" She repeated herself a few times, slipping her fingers into his hand once more before coming to her senses and ripping it out, "You idiot!" She stood to her feet, running to the doorway and yanking it open, staring out into the streets with an empty heart.

"_Mademoiselle_, if I did anything to upset you I apologize…"

Eponine stared at him in resentment, ready to tell him how he had done _everything_ to upset her. He had somehow ridden her life of Marius' once before, and had done it again. If Marius was to return once more, it would be nothing short of a miracle.

But it wasn't _his _fault. It was Montparnasse's, for ridding the poor oaf of his memory.

"You didn't do anything, _Monsieur_. It was my mistake. I apologize." She moved towards him with her arms crossed across her chest, resting lightly on her stomach.

"Is your baby alright?" He moved towards her, taking her hands into his own and feeling her pulse, "What happened?"

Frozen, Eponine stuttered briefly then shook her head. He was so close to her that she could feel his breath on her skin, the warmth sending shivers down her spine.

"I-I, don't remember." She grinned, dizzy.

"You fainted – did that man have anything to do with it."

"Marius?" She shook her head, "He had everything to do with it."

"Then we'll call the police!"

"No!" She differed, chuckling nervously, "No, he – he didn't mean any harm. He was an old friend of mine, I guess – I guess I just got overwhelmed."

He nodded, "I called for Monsieur Joly but he wasn't home."

Had the man single handedly nursed her back to health? Only God knew what he would bring for her, because for the first time after a very, very long time – Eponine felt a flutter in her heart and warmth in her cheeks.

"Thank you." She smiled, turning her head away from him.

"If you need anything, anything at all, especially for your baby – just let me know. It would be a pleasure to help."

"You're a very good man Enjolras."

It felt like déjà vu coming out of the waif's mouth. They had uttered these words to one another before the accident.

"I'm glad I could be of service." He nodded briskly and turned to leave but stopped after Eponine kissed him on the cheek, lingering for a moment before she had realized what it had meant.

She hadn't thought about the 'plan' Joly had elaborately laid out for her.

She had done it on pure instinct; it was spur of the moment…

Enjolras' eyes widened and his cheeks reddened. Eponine covered her mouth and he had been petrified by the action.

"Go away." Enjolras begged suddenly, catching the waif off guard.

Tears had welled up in Eponine's eyes, only streaming down her face when she pivoted on her heel and ran up the stairs bitterly to her chambers.

Why had she cared so much?

Enjolras wasn't even himself. There was no reason to be embarrassed, no reason to worry about how it would affect the relationship between the soon to be parents. He would forget as soon as his memory came back.

But still, the moment had left her hopeful for forgiveness from him and for him to heal from his amnesia as soon as possible.

The longer he was like this, the longer she had to face feeling this way.


End file.
